Found
by BrynnH87
Summary: This is an AU companion piece to Lost. Jimmy is a 12 year old diagnosed with Autism and Blair, who is an adult, is his Guide. Outside forces contrive to keep them apart. First real story in the "Lost and Found" AU. Nominated in the 2008 LMFA Awards.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a companion piece to my story "Lost", but could be read alone. This is the first chapter of what is insisting on becoming a much larger work. This part is basically the events of "Lost" from Blair's POV, as well as back history for Blair. More action to come in subsequent parts.

Found

I couldn't believe it. There I stood in the doorway of a child's room on the 3rd floor of the Cascade Center for Emotionally Disabled Children after having been hastily hired and sent to this particular floor. There were expertly drawn pictures of me all over his room, and there, in the bed, in a zone to beat all zones, was the very boy I've been seeing in my dreams for almost eight years. I had been looking for Jimmy for all that time, but, as I stood there in that doorway, I realized that until just that moment I always had just the smallest doubt that he was real…almost a small hope that he wasn't, that there wasn't a suffering child who needed me, whom it took me _so _long to find. All my energy for all that time was spent in finding him, yet there was still a niggling doubt…until I stepped into that doorway.

"Jimmy," I whispered, "I didn't completely think you were real."

He didn't move; he didn't blink. He just lay on the bed, so still, and stared at the ceiling. I knew I could help him. I moved to his side, touched his hand and said, "Come on, man, come on back now." I put my hand on the boy's head, and Jimmy looked at me. The child immediately turned his head toward me, and though his eyes were still a little unfocused, he had no trouble recognizing me.

"Hi Chief," he said, and reached out to be hugged, like I had always hugged him in my dreams.

It was so natural for me to hear Jimmy talk, and for him to want to be touched, that it took me a while to realize why all the staff members in his room were doing the best imitations of goldfish that I had ever seen. One of the staff, the forty-something lady who had told me that she had my first assignment, seemed to recognize my confusion. She came to stand close to me and said in a hushed voice, "That's the first time we've ever heard him speak."

He always could, of course. He spoke to me all the time in my dreams. It just took so much of his concentration to manage his over-active senses, something he was never meant to do alone, that he couldn't spare the energy needed to speak in "the real world". He couldn't handle casual touches either, for the same reason, so I understood why the staff looked like they were about to collectively faint from shock.

He finally let go, and looked at me. "Chief, you're here? You're really here?" He looked around his room. "Not in the jungle?"

"No, buddy," I got him to lie back down, and rubbed his hand as I spoke. "Not in the jungle this time. We're right here, in your room."

Jimmy yawned and looked exhausted. I learned later that he had been in a zone for the last five hours, but zoning wasn't the same as sleep, and this little boy desperately needed some rest.

"Go to sleep now, big guy. I'm working here now, so I'll be right here when you wake up." He smiled and was asleep almost immediately.

By that time, the staff's shock had worn off and curiosity had set in with a vengeance. It was all I could do to get them all out of Jimmy's room before the never-ending string of question began.

"Chief?"

"Jungle?"

"Jimmy can talk?" The questions bombarded me simultaneously.

"" "" "" ""

I set about answering their questions, but I thought for sure that I would be laughed out of the room as soon as I started talking about blue jungles and conversations with a child I'd never met. I no doubt would have been, had it not been for two things: the recent events in Jimmy's room, and the pictures of me all over Jimmy's wall (and apparently scattered throughout the rest of the facility). As it was, I had a spell-bound audience as we sat in the living room area for the next several hours while I told them my story

The first time I dreamed of Jimmy was about eight years ago. I suddenly found myself in a blue jungle, and heard a small child crying. As I searched the jungle for the sound, I finally found a young boy, about 4 years old, huddled by a tree, crying like he was completely lost in the world…lost TO the world. I somehow knew this child's history, like an adult awareness of all his memories.

He had always been a child that had trouble processing sensory input. Lights were always too bright, sounds were always too loud. His mother had to constantly try to structure his environment so that he wasn't overwhelmed by these things. She couldn't have possibly understood why her child was such an extraordinarily fussy toddler: why he screamed in the presence of bright lights, new noises, or strong smells; why he refused to eat all but the blandest of foods; why he constantly ripped off his clothing, even in public. From his memories of her, she seemed to do the best she could, and actually helped him quite a bit. But, despite her best efforts, he'd still have sensory spikes and sometimes would zone on a particular sense…an unusual sound, a colorful object, or a peculiar smell.

To his parents, this was terrifying. They didn't know what was going on with their child. His father dealt with it by distancing himself from his son, leaving the child's mother to deal with him by herself. By the time Jimmy was 3 ½, there was a new baby brother on the scene, and his mother, being completely overwhelmed, left the home. I can't imagine that she anticipated that her leaving would make things so much worse, or that Jimmy's father would abandon him, too. She couldn't have known that he would put their son in a residential facility for handicapped children.

Jimmy was labeled autistic, and was all but forgotten by this family. The new environment only made things worse, and he drifted away into a sensory nightmare. Somewhere in all this confusion, he managed to somehow call me.

"" "" "" ""

Months went by, and I hadn't dreamedof the poor lonely child in the jungle. I almost convinced myself that it wasn't real. There wasn't really a child out there who needed me, who was so lost. Then the dream came to me again.

He was in the jungle again, crying again, alone again. I found him and held him, and told him everything was going to be okay. Somehow, in the dream, I believed that. As soon as I woke up, I tried to find him. I had no idea where to start. I didn't know his last name, because he didn't know. I didn't know what city, or even what state, the child was in, because he didn't know. All I knew was that he was in a residential facility, but he didn't know the name.

So began my search of all the residential facilities in the United States. At least I hoped he was in the United States. He had an American accent, as did all the people in his memories, so I went with that assumption. The thought that he might be in another country altogether was one I just couldn't deal with right then.

"" "" "" ""

Meanwhile, I continued to dream of him. There was no set pattern as to the frequency of the dreams. I imagine they happened when life in the "real world" got to be too much for Jimmy, for whatever reason, and he retreated to the jungle…probably during one of his zones. When he went there, I was drawn there too. I got to know him quite well…we would talk, and just spend time together, and that alone seemed to help him. I got the impression from him that he couldn't or didn't talk in the real world, but he talked to me.

I remember the first time we got past the crying. He looked around, saw that we were in a jungle, took one look at me, with my long hair and colorful clothing and decided I must be the chief of the local Native American tribe, and asked "Are you an Indian chief?" His mother had often read to him from various books about native tribes, especially those of South America. It must have been a special interest of hers and she passed that along to her son. I told him that I wasn't, but his mind was made up. Therefore, I've been "Chief" for the last eight years.

The more I dreamt of Jimmy, the harder I searched for him in the waking world. I started with the all the residential facilities in the state of Virginia, which was where I was at the time. I was a student at the University there, when I could afford classes. When I couldn't, I worked at whatever job I could find, so that I could save up for more classes. I was an Anthropology major, and the fact of someone having all five senses heightened to a degree far above "normal" struck a cord with me. I'd heard about something like that before. So, I started to research when I wasn't in class, working, or calling residential facilities. I finally found what I needed. Sentinels! Jimmy was a sentinel. Each time I found out something new, I couldn't wait to share it with Jimmy. We learned a lot about Sentinels and Guides … Jimmy and I…over the course of the next eight years.

The search for Jimmy didn't go nearly as smoothly as my research on sentinels. I had called every facility in Virginia. Several institutions had autistic boys named Jimmy, about the right age. But, when I tried to narrow the search by giving a physical description and as much background as I knew, no one matched. I then found a library that had phone books for other states, and I started looking farther away. I found three possible matches in separate Eastern states, and started my long journey. I finished the semester at my current school, and headed to the first state with a possible match. I had to stop along the way to work, to get enough money to travel, and to eventually continue taking classes. I thought about just dropping out of college altogether, but colleges and universities were the best place to find information about sentinels. I also found a few professors who had heard about them, and were intrigued enough by my story to help me research, using materials that would not have been available to a lowly student.

So went my life. I'd work for a while, travel until my money ran out, work some more and enroll in a nearby college for a semester. All the while visiting hopeful residential facilities, and even working in some, so that I could get a better sense of what Jimmy's life might be like outside the jungle. When I wasn't doing any of that, I was calling facilities farther away. As I found possible matches, I headed West.

I used every clue I could get from Jimmy. He mentioned once that there were lots of trees where he was, and mountains. That eliminated quite a few places. I'd ask him about the weather, and it seemed to rain a lot…eliminating some more cities and states. So it went for the next eight years.

"" "" "" ""

As I finished looking in Oregon, and entered the state of Washington, I felt an undeniable sense of urgency. My meetings in the jungle with Jimmy were even more sporadic than normal. Even when he was there, he was agitated, and didn't stay long. With what little time we had together, he pleaded for help, saying that something was desperately wrong, and that he needed me to find him…now!

I had found precious little about sentinel children in all of my research. But I did find references to sentinels during puberty. Apparently, heightened senses and whacked out hormones didn't really go together very well, and the young sentinel and his guide had a tough time ahead of them. I found disturbing citations of sentinels dying during this time if their guide couldn't break them out of unusually long zones. I found no mention of what would happen to a pubescent sentinel with no guide.

I had a sense that I was close. On one of his short and increasingly rare visits, Jimmy mentioned that he thought he was in Cascade, Washington. The teacher had mentioned it in school. I drove straight through to Cascade. Somehow, I didn't feel I had time to stop. No more research for a while. I had to find Jimmy. There was only one residential facility for autistic kids in Cascade, so I made my way there. I went into the administration office, intending to ask about Jimmy in person, and maybe ask for a job as well. I was completely out of money, and despite the sense of urgency, I would _have_ to get a job for a while if I needed to continue my travels.

The director wasn't immediately available, so I thought I'd apply for that job while I was waiting. As I stepped into the Personnel office, and got the attention of the lady there, she took one look at me, gasped, and told me, on the spot, that I was hired. I hadn't even told her my name yet, let alone fill out an application. I found out later that she had one of Jimmy's pictures of me tacked up on the wall next to her desk. She sent me to the third floor, and told me they would know why, and I was ushered into Jimmy's room. My search was finally over. The sense of dread eased, and I knew things had suddenly gotten better.


	2. Chapter 2

Found, chapter 2

I fully intended to camp out in the living room area overnight, if they would let me…even though the first day of my official shift was long over. I knew the whole time I had been looking for Jimmy, that he would need me to be there 24/7 for a while. I wasn't quite sure yet how this would work with regard to the job, but we would work it out. The administrator came up earlier to talk to me, after Jimmy had gone to sleep. Nice lady! She said we would see what Jimmy's need of me turned out to be, and plan schedules accordingly.

The doctor who had been so worried about Jimmy, and a lot of other staff members who had fallen in love with Jimmy over the years, all checked in too. All really nice people. The doctor stayed for quite some time, checking Jimmy's vitals about every half hour for a while. He even woke the poor boy up twice, just to be sure he could, indeed, be awakened. Can't say that I blame the guy, though. Jimmy had just spent five hours in a zone from which no one could wake him. It was certainly very understandable why the doctor and the rest of the staff would be hesitant to think the crisis was over, just like that.

Most of the staff who had been on shift when I arrived had gone home. They worked twelve hour shifts, 8-8, for 2 or 3 days, staggering days off so that there was never a completely different group of people working. The only staff member from the day shift still there was the forty-something lady who had spoken to me in Jimmy's room. In fact, she had met me at the door and ushered me into his room to start with. I found out her name was Dorothy. Dottie to everyone at the Center. She had worked here for almost a decade and was here when Jimmy was first bought in. She was often the one who clued into just what in Jimmy's environment was freaking the poor boy out. Of course, she did have a special interest in Jimmy; she called him her "favorite little boy in the world." She brought him things that were especially soft, insisted that the staff use the gentlest of detergents for his clothes, etc. I wondered if she is a latent guide of a sort, or just incredibly perceptive. Either way, she was a godsend for Jimmy. I'm convinced that it was her special care, as well as that of many of the staff here, that kept Jimmy sane long enough for me to find him.

Dottie told me all sorts of "Jimmy stories." Some were about his "sensitive periods" (sensory spikes) and "absent periods" (zones), but most were just cute anecdotes of Jimmy's exploits growing up. It was the closest thing to "mama telling embarrassing childhood stories" as Jimmy was going to get.

Quite the authoritative one, our Jimmy. It seems he often brought a chair to the table to sit near Dottie, even if someone was already there. Most of the kids didn't mind, and the staff was happy that he was reaching out. It also seems that Jimmy always won out when there was a "cop show" on TV. Dottie said the only times Jimmy actually seemed to _watch_ TV was during cop shows, or anything with Indians. The staff was just so happy that this normally distant young man was actually connecting with his surroundings, that they let him watch whatever he wanted. The other kids didn't usually have a preference about what show they watched, and if they did, there was another TV in the playroom that the staff could let them watch. Dottie had even taken to checking the TV Guide for times of relatively mild cop shows, westerns and documentaries on Indians. She said she had to be careful to choose westerns where the Indians were treated nicely, because Jimmy would cry uncontrollably if they died! That would eliminate most of the westerns I've seen, but Dottie said she really did find a few.

Besides watching specific shows, Jimmy seemed interested in little else. He had few foods that he liked; in fact very few that he could even tolerate eating. He didn't play with the other kids; he didn't use the play equipment. The main thing he liked to do, he did constantly…draw. He drew everything: posters in the classroom, toys, play equipment, other items in the room or that he had seen somewhere else. But no other people…just me. Dottie said he never once attempted to draw any person…not even himself…not even when asked to just draw a person. Just me…apparently in just about every conceivable pose…some full length, some just the face. Some had a jungle background; some had no background at all. Dottie said that once Jimmy drew them, it didn't matter to him what happened to them. He never gave them to anyone, but he never tried to stop others from taking them. In fact, if someone didn't pick them up, he just left them where he drew them. It seemed to be the act of drawing them that was important to him, not the drawings themselves.

Dottie said there were all beautiful…except for the ones he drew in the last several months. He completely stopped drawing anything but me, but those were on dark or black backgrounds. She showed me some that she had kept. There were black lightning bolts through some, right across my face, though my face was drawn well, not distorted or ugly. Some had jagged outlines and the features were slightly distorted like they were fading away. They were actually quite disturbing. Dottie said that on top of everything else that was going on with Jimmy at the time, the fact that his drawings changed so dramatically greatly worried the staff, especially the resident psychologist. It rather worried me too, now that I'd seen them. Had Jimmy been giving up on my ever finding him? Had he been angry with me for taking so long? Or was this actually how he saw things in the jungle the last several weeks. He had come so infrequently there toward the end, and when he did, he was agitated, often closing his eyes and turning away. Was whatever chemical problem puberty was causing actually affecting his perception of the spirit plane?

My musings were interrupted with a blood curdling scream! I knew without checking that it was Jimmy. Dottie and I rushed to his room. He was pounding on the bed, yelling "no", and then "Chief! Come back!" Not his usual sensory spike. A nightmare?

I ran to his bedside. "I'm right here, big guy. What's wrong?"

He collapsed into my hug like a marionette with cut strings, and sobbed helplessly. "I thought you left me, like you always did in the jungle."

My heart broke in two. I always just assumed that Jimmy left the jungle when I did. I never once thought that I had been abandoning him time after time for eight years! That sure did lend credence to the theory that the distorted pictures were because he was mad at me, or more probably hurt, though I still think the chemical theory had merit too.

"Jimmy," I said softly, soothing him by rubbing circles on his back. "Buddy, I didn't have a choice about when I left the jungle. I was there when I was dreaming in the real world. When I woke up, I left. I didn't know you were left there alone. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

By now, his sobbing was under control enough for him to speak, but his voice was still broken and obviously, so was his heart. "I didn't want to make you mad. I didn't want you to stay gone, like mommy."

Jimmy's wasn't the only broken heart in the room. I didn't trust myself to talk right then, but, when I happened to look over Jimmy's head, I saw Dottie quietly crying in the doorway.

"Jimmy." What do you say to a revelation like that? "I'm sorry I left in the jungle. I always came back, didn't I?" But then I thought. _Did_ I? Were there times when Jimmy went to the jungle and I wasn't asleep, so I didn't come? Jimmy shook his head and said softly, "not always."

I thought I was going to be sick. How could the spirits, or fate, or whatever allowed us to talk in the spirit plane to begin with, allow this lonely little boy to be all alone in the one place he could be himself, to feel abandoned even in his one safe place? But then, in all of my research, I never found mention of Sentinels and Guides being able to meet on the spirit plane at all, so maybe fate was doing what it could. But, right then, it didn't feel like enough.

"Aw Buddy…I'm here now. I'll be here as much as I can. When I'm not working, I'll leave my cell phone number so someone can call me if you need me, and I'll be right here. We don't have to wait for the jungle now."

He nodded, but didn't say anything else. It took lots of rocking and reassuring, and _lots_ of circles on his back before he went back to sleep. I was careful to explain to him that if he went to the jungle, I wouldn't be there, because I was awake here. He finally seemed okay with that, and nodded off to sleep huddled against my chest. Somewhere during that time, Dottie had picked up Jimmy's blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, and left us to work this out ourselves. I knew without looking that she was still out there somewhere, waiting to make sure Jimmy was okay. I was reluctant to leave him alone, but I finally laid him down, and covered him up, and went to sit in the living room area.

It wasn't long before another scream broke the silence. It didn't take me quite as long to get him back to sleep that time, but it was still heartbreaking for both of us. I finally decided to just stay in his room. As if getting the same idea at the same time, Dottie came in, rolling an institutional recliner. Large, ugly, on wheels for easy movement, but impossible to sleep in. Man, this was going to be a long night.

"" "' "" "" "" ""

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Found 3

I woke to find that it was almost noon. I had such a crick in my neck, I could hardly move it. The rest of my joints didn't like me much either. I would _not_ recommend sleeping in an institutional recliner, if it could _possibly_ be avoided.

Jimmy was actually still asleep, but starting to stir, so he'd be awake soon. He actually had a much better night once I stayed in the room with him. I had known from research that Sentinels needed their Guides close, especially pubescent sentinels, but I had no idea _how_ close. Over the next few months I found that Jimmy didn't like me to be out of his sight, and he'd prefer I was close enough to touch. Some of that was probably not sentinel related at all, though. Poor kid had serious abandonment issues.

Anyway, I learned that Dottie had just sacked out on the sofa, since she had to work this morning. When the shift changed, she had threatened the rest of the day shift with bodily harm if anyone woke either of us before we woke up naturally. Apparently no one really wanted to risk the "Wrath of Dorothy", because there we were still asleep at noon. Man, I'm glad this lady is on our side.

Most of the staff was not on the hall by the time I started my first full day of work, if you can call starting at noon a full day. With the children in class in the school section of the Center, the third floor staff was scattered. Some were in the classrooms with the kids, to help out if need be. Others were in various meetings. One was always left on the hall to do paperwork and just generally be easy to get in touch with if they were needed somewhere. I found as I went along that there was never a dull moment here, and hardly ever a day exactly like any other. So, the staff tried to be prepared for just about anything.

Once Jimmy finally woke up and finished his morning ablutions, Stacy, the staff member still on the hall, told me how to get to the cafeteria. Jimmy agreed that lunch would be an _excellent_ idea. We were both famished, so off we went to get some lunch.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

As it turned out, news of Jimmy's "miraculous recovery" had already spread throughout the Center. Hearing about it, however, and actually seeing it were two extremely different things.

We came in on the tail end of lunch, so there weren't that many people left. I had noticed on our way through the halls that Jimmy would huddle close to me, or even cling to me, when there were a lot of people. So, I was glad that I could witness his first meal with me, without the added problem of a crowd.

The cafeteria staff, I learned later, tended to spoil the kids as much as possible, and Jimmy seemed to be among their very favorite. They were all quick to introduce themselves to me, and to comment on how much better Jimmy looked than he had in the last several months. Lunch that day was a simple affair of sandwiches and soup. There were grilled cheese sandwiches still available, and an empty place where there had obviously been another type of sandwich to choose from. While I was talking to the kitchen staff, I noticed that Jimmy got his own tray and silverware (Dottie had said that he was really quite good at taking care of his own basic needs), and picked up a bowl of chicken soup rather than tomato. He wasn't taking a sandwich, though, but, rather, seemed to be looking for something else. I interrupted my conversation to ask him if he wanted a sandwich.

"Peanut butter," he said matter of factly.

The lady behind the counter with whom I had been talking was shocked. I was getting used to the goldfish look. Everyone so far had adopted it the first time they heard Jimmy speak. After shaking herself out of her shock, she assured Jimmy that she would be right back with his favorite kind of sandwich. I heard her exclaim softly to the staff further back in the kitchen area. "Jimmy _asked_ for a sandwich…_verbally_!" There were various responses from the other ladies, but most of them rushed forward to hear for themselves. However, the more people who crowded into the serving line section of the cafeteria, the closer Jimmy stood to me, until he was finally hanging on for dear life. I knew we weren't going to hear anything else from him for a while. I learned later that the way Jimmy had handled crowds in the past was to drop to the floor and scream. So, even without the long-sought-after prize of hearing Jimmy talk, they still considered this an improvement.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

After lunch, we went to Jimmy's afternoon classroom, and slipped quietly into the back. There were several other children in a huddle with the teacher at the front of the room, so I tried to get Jimmy to go up with them, but he held on to me, and refused to go any further, even if I went with him. He slipped into a chair at the back of the room, and took out a pad of paper and crayons that were stashed nearby. Obviously, this was where he normally sat. So, I settled in a chair beside him and watched the teacher. She was holding up pictures of various people, different types of community helpers, and asking the kids questions about them. It was obvious soon enough that she had different goals for the various children, and was using this one activity to work on each of them. It was really quite impressive to watch.

My attention wandered to a little girl, about 10 or so, off to herself, but still a lot closer to the group than Jimmy was. There was a young woman, about my age, sitting with her…obviously a staff member…trying to help the girl stay focused. The child's name was obviously Lydia, since the staff member called her this often, using a quiet, soothing tone of voice. Lydia was becoming more and more agitated about something in the environment, and the staff member was trying desperately to help her stay calm. The little girl was obviously trying her best to keep herself under control, but finally lost her battle, and started screaming and striking out. The domino effect was phenomenal. Several of the other children became agitated at the commotion, and Jimmy just dropped to the floor, put his hands on his ears, and screamed. I don't know how the teacher did it, but she managed to stay utterly calm in the face of all this, and left the two screaming children to their respective aids, while she calmed the children in the group. The staff member with Lydia finally got her to stand, and exit the room with her. We could hear her screams become more and more muffled, as she and her aid moved down the hall. I learned later that there was a "calm room" nearby…not so much a time out room (because the child was never left alone) but more of a regroup room…where the environment was more controlled and the child, with a staff member, could regain their composure.

Meanwhile, Jimmy was still in complete agony. All of my research about sentinels had told me about their traditional role in primitive tribes and some about how their guides were able to ground them so they wouldn't zone; nothing prepared me for dealing with the sensory spike of a twelve year old boy who had been in a residential facility for most of his life. So, I did what I often do…what I do best, in fact….I made it up as I went along.

Jimmy's hands were still firmly over his ears. He had stopped screaming and was now rocking, eyes closed in pain. I reached over, gently, and touched him on the arm. No response. I then tapped him lightly on the chin to try to get him to look at me. He finally opened his eyes. I put my hands over my ears just like he had his…with the same pressure, the same intensity. He watched, but didn't really know what to do with that. I then released a little of the pressure in my hands, enough that he could see the change. He watched, but still no change. I tipped my chin toward him to try to indicate that he should do the same. I was talking to him quietly also, but wasn't sure he could pay attention to any more auditory input, since that was what had been causing him pain. Finally, he released a little pressure in his own hands. I loosened mine a little more, and he followed suit, ceasing his rocking when he noticed the noise was gone. I finally removed my hands altogether, and slowly moved them to my lap. He did the same, very slowly, very deliberately. After a few more moments, when he assured himself that the noise wasn't coming back, he lifted himself to his chair, and began drawing again.

I noticed that the teacher was surprised that he had come out of what the staff had always called a "sensitive period", so quickly. But, being the professional that she was, she didn't miss a beat with her instruction. As she finished talking about each community helper, she had been getting a student to put the corresponding cut out on the bulletin board off to one side of the room. I noticed a doctor and a nurse, an ambulance attendant, and a fireman. She was currently talking about a teacher. Jimmy was busy drawing a picture of the bulletin board, and started adding the teacher as soon as the student put it up. Finally, the teacher picked up a cut out of a policeman.

"Hey, Jimmy, look!" I tried to direct his attention toward the teacher, "It's a policeman."

He looked up from his drawing and actually was paying attention to the teacher as she talked about everything that a policeman does for the community; telling the kids that they could go to the policeman if they were lost. She segued into asking them their names, and where they lived, and had them role-play being lost and asking the policeman for help. Jimmy was watching all of this attentively.

Finally, out of the blue, he said, "I'm gonna be a policeman when I get big."

Professional or not, the teacher stopped mid-sentence and looked at Jimmy. She had known him the whole time she had worked at the Center, and had _never_ heard him say one word. Here was a whole sentence…on topic!

Jimmy wasn't finished, "well, that…or an Indian."

The teacher shook herself out of her shock and chuckled at that. "Either of those things would be a very good thing to be, Jimmy." I could see her inner debate. Should she push a little and ask for another response? Should she downplay the importance of what she had just witnessed? She decided to converse a little. "Policemen help us a lot, don't they?" Jimmy nodded and smiled…he had a terrific smile…something he didn't do nearly enough. "Would you like to put our policeman on the bulletin board for us?" Jimmy looked hesitant, and looked at me for direction.

"That would be fun, Sport, don't you think?"

He hesitantly nodded, and stood up. He was still reluctant to go into the thick of the group, so I went closer and got the cut out from the teacher. Jimmy took it from me, and put it on the bulletin board. There was felt on the back of the cut out, and the entire bulletin board was covered with felt, so it easily stuck wherever Jimmy put it. He took it back off and tried again, several times, until he had it just right. Then he returned to his seat and started adding it to his drawing of the board. Conversation over, apparently. But the teacher seemed more than satisfied. She turned her attention back to the rest of the class, but the beaming smile never left her face.

"' "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Finally, it was dinner time. Man, had it been a long day and it had just started at noon. I noticed most of the third floor staff seemed to be sitting together. I settled Jimmy at the next table over, and sat at that end of the staff table. Dottie was right behind me with her tray and sat on the opposite side of the table.

"Hey Blair," she said, "How was your first day?"

"Busy. Exhausting," I answered with an exaggerated sigh and paused for effect, "and I'm loving every minute of it.!"

She chuckled. "Have you met everyone? Let's see…Anna and Chuck were off yesterday, and I bet you were all too busy to get to know each other yet today. Have you been introduced?" I answered in the negative, and she continued, "That's Anna," and nodded to the female beside me, the same lady I had seen working so calmly and patiently with Lydia earlier.

"With 'Anna' and 'Chuck' as your only choices, I bet you figured that out." Anna chucked and held out her hand.

"Yeah," I laughed, "but it's always nice to be sure."

Dottie good-naturedly rolled her eyes. "And this is Chuck."

I reached my hand across the table toward the man seated next to Dottie, but he leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and said, "So, _you_ are Saint Blair Sandburg. Everyone around here makes you sound like the second coming. Hell, I was gonna ask you to walk across the pond later…you know, just to see you perform _another_ miracle."

Dottie handed Chuck a roll. "Put something in your mouth, Chuck, before you embarrass yourself further." Chuck took a bite of the roll, but didn't stop his critical inspection of me.

In fact, he continued to stare, and downright glare at me all during dinner. Oh well. It certainly wouldn't be the first time I'd rubbed someone the wrong way. I can deal with it. I'm not here to be "Mr. Popular." I'm here for Jimmy, who was at that moment exploring the relative merits of eating mashed potatoes _with_ gravy, or without, trying a bite of first one, and then the other. I had found that the cafeteria workers had long since learned most of the children's eating quirks, and had loaded Jimmy's tray with three helpings of mashed potatoes: one with gravy, one without, and one, god help me, with ketchup! Don't ask me what's up with that! I'm not sure if that's a sentinel thing, a pre-teen thing, or just a Jimmy thing, but he ate that helping first, so who's to argue.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

Dinner was otherwise uneventful as was the rest of the early evening. We had allowed the children some outside play time, during which Jimmy drew picture after picture of various play equipment. Not even I could convince him to actually _use_ said equipment. Then we headed back to the hall. We were now working on rotating the kids through snack, indoor play or TV, and baths. Jimmy was watching a cop show, so the bath was scheduled around him, so that he could get his bath after it was over. I personally think this boy has this whole place wrapped around his finger.

I grabbed some cookies and settled down in an armchair, nearby, but not right next to Jimmy, to just hang out until, or unless, I was needed. Anna grabbed a couple of cookies and sat in the next chair.

"You have to excuse Chuck. He can't help himself. He's suffering from TAD," she said after a nibble or two of cookie.

"What's TAD," I asked, taking a bite of my own cookie.

"Terminal Asshole Disorder."

It took every bit of effort I could muster to keep from redecorating the carpet with partially masticated chocolate chip cookie. Regaining my composure at long last, I countered, "Yeah, I know that disease. Must be pretty rampant. There always seems to be at _least_ one sufferer of the disorder just about anywhere you go."

"Unfortunately, it's incurable, and_ we_ have to suffer with the symptoms."

I think I found a kindred spirit. So far, Anna's sarcastic wit seems to match, or even surpass my own. All in all, not a bad day's work. Numerous supporters and only one enemy so far. I can live with that.


	4. Chapter 4

Found 4

The several weeks or so went by_ pretty_ well. I fit into Jimmy's schedule like I had always been there. He was doing much better with regards to communication, and was interacting in class a little, but he wouldn't let me out of his sight, and he was still having trouble controlling his senses. He had several sensory spikes…most minor, but one so bad that he ripped off all his clothes in the middle of the hallway after class. Fortunately we were near the "calm room" and I could take him there to calm him down, so that we didn't have a very distraught, very naked Jimmy out in such a public place. The spikes involving touch were some of the hardest to get under control. Rubbing his back or arms seemed to be the most effective way to get him to calm down, but when everything touching him was already excruciating, that was out of the question. That left voice alone, and he didn't respond to that quite as quickly. Stacy and Chuck and several children happened to be walking by about the time I was ushering him into the "calm room" and Stacy offered to bring down some more clothes for him. I noticed when she got there, that they were among the softest clothes he had.

The staff assured me that he was handling his sensory spikes much better than he used to, and his zones, though just as frequent, were no where _near_ the length they used to be. I was still frustrated, though. This wasn't the Jimmy I had met in the jungle. Don't get me wrong, I adored him…in the jungle, out of the jungle, in full sensory spike mode, it didn't matter. I was destined to be an integral part of this little boy's life and I _loved_ having that opportunity. But, I just felt that I wasn't doing enough…that I should be able to help him be the little boy I met in the jungle. For all my research, I was just reacting to each situation…doing what came to mind to help re-stabilize my young charge, one crisis at a time. But, I wanted to help him be proactive…to control his senses _before_ there was a crisis. I had tried to do some visual imagining with him…have him imagine dials to represent his senses so that he could then turn them down when needed. He didn't seem to get it. He had little or no experience with dials. He didn't listen to music, and the sound on the TV was always adjusted by the staff. I had tried levers, buttons…anything I could think of, and no matter how much I thought about it, I just couldn't find that one magic way that would get through to him.

I was getting to know the staff members better, and got along with most. With one notable exception. I didn't know what Chuck's problem was, but no matter how much I tried to get along with him, he seemed to be trying just as hard to hate me. I've rubbed people the wrong way before, but this instant and prolonged hatred was something I had never experienced before. Always in the past, I was at least able to come to some kind of truce. It just wasn't happening with Chuck.

Dottie said it was probably because Chuck liked to be the center of attention, and once I got here, all the focus seemed to shift to me…or at least Chuck felt that it had. Dottie said that Chuck really received no less attention now that he did before, but she thought that his goal all along was to be "Mr. Popular" to have everyone know him and like him…greet him warmly in the halls and tell other people how good he was with the kids. The problem was he really wasn't good with them. He became impatient _way_ too quickly, tended to talk to them either in a condescending voice, or an angry one, and when he felt they weren't complying quickly enough, he simply manhandled them into it…nothing that could really be called abuse…just much more physically intrusive than he needed to be.

Case in point:

One day after class, we had no sooner gotten back to the hall, hung up jackets, and started handing out snack, when the fire alarm went off. Dottie had told me that the administration usually tried to notify the third floor staff before a drill because of some of the children's bad reaction. But sometimes they weren't able to, so, that day, we had had no warning. And, man did Jimmy have a bad reaction.

He grabbed his ears and screamed as loud as the alarm itself. He jumped around, still holding his ears and screaming and slammed his body into the wall, over and over. I tried to get his attention, but right then, it was pretty useless, so I just got between him and the wall, and tried to talk him down. Everyone was ushering the other kids outside, and left Jimmy to me. Dottie said she'd check on whether or not there was actually a fire, and come help me get him out quickly if need be. More importantly she'd try to get the alarm turned off on the hall, if possible.

After a half minute or so he finally let me touch him, and then let me hold him, still screaming and holding his ears, but not hurting himself anymore. I tried to use only touch to sooth him instead of my voice, since his sense of hearing was already overloaded. I rubbed circles on his back, rubbed his arms, stroked his hair, even just held my hands over his, until he was finally quiet, but still upset.

There were still several children and staff members on the hall…some heading for the doorway, and some having their own crisis. Jimmy was certainly not the only child on the hall that didn't like fire alarms. I finally got him to stand up and was working the two of us toward the door, still in a timely enough fashion so as to be safe if there really _was_ a fire, and ahead of several other children, when Chuck came stomping across the room. "Oh, for crying out loud. It's a _fire _drill. Coddle the brat later." He bent Jimmy over his shoulder, and headed for the door. Of course, Jimmy started screaming again, and kicking. Chuck didn't seem to care about Jimmy's distress, only the kicking. "You kick me, brat, and I'll leave your ass to burn up."

I followed as quickly as I could, and tried to talk to Jimmy, but I knew it wouldn't help. Sound was what was hurting; he wouldn't hear me. We finally got outside, and I took Jimmy as soon as I could, and sent a glare toward Chuck.

"Well, you're welcome for my doing _your_ job, Messiah."

Ignoring Chuck, I went through all the same motions that had worked earlier. I finally got Jimmy quiet again, but he wouldn't let go of me. At that moment, I just let him cling.

It turned out that there had been a minor fire in the kitchen, two floors below and at the opposite end of the building. Someone spilled hot grease on the gas stove, causing the flame to jump to a nearby dish towel. It was rapidly contained; someone just over-reacted and pulled the alarm. But, of course, the fire trucks had to respond sirens blaring, and were now parked in the lot with lights still flashing. Jimmy wouldn't open his eyes, and had put his hands back over his ears. He would scream any time I loosened the hug, so I held on tight. I had no idea what else to do. At least he wasn't still causing himself bodily injury. Meanwhile, I was _thinking_ of doing bodily injury…to Chuck.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Have you ever tried getting up two flights of stairs with a 12 year old all but surgically attached to your side? Don't try it; it's not fun. Jimmy had _refused_ to get in the elevator. I was trying to talk him into it, when Chuck made a move toward him, and I suggested Jimmy and I take the stairs. Jimmy was fine with that, but wouldn't let go of me. He _did_ at least let me loosen my hold on _him_ long enough to open doors or catch a stair rail when we inevitably stumbled.

The next day, I did something that would start a descent into the absolute worse time of my life, and of Jimmy's life. I talked to the Director about asking Chuck to leave Jimmy to me. I had to describe what happened before she would consent, and she put an official reprimand in his file. She said that she would not tolerate blatant manhandling of her children, nor would she allow staff members to use profanity when addressing them. In my own defense, I hadn't meant to have him reprimanded; I just wanted him to stay away from Jimmy, so that I could deal with him in a systematic way, without having Chuck as a wild card.

But, it seemed that counting this event, Chuck was just one reprimand away from being fired. Now, since the rule was "5 reprimands gained instant termination," it seems to me that I couldn't _possibly_ be the only one who had a complaint. Did _Chuck _see it that way? Of course not. He singled me out and threatened to quote "beat the shit out of me" if I got him in any more trouble. Never being one to be able to hold my tongue when I felt I was in the right, I told him that if he'd stop doing things to get in trouble _for_, I wouldn't be _able_ to get him in trouble. It was futile to try to explain that I didn't _mean_ to actually get him in trouble, so I didn't even try. So much for _ever_ being able to get along with Chuck.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

If the fire drill incident taught me anything, though, it was that I _had _to find that way for Jimmy to control his own senses. I was wracking my brain, yet again, when I passed a large poster in the front foyer of the Center. We were a state funded facility, but also occasionally tried to raise funds from the local population for something special. Some of the play equipment was becoming pretty dated, and we really could really use replacements. We were also hoping to make enough to buy an extra piece of equipment or two, as well as re-mulch the whole play area. Toward that end, someone had drawn a large thermometer on poster board…with the monetary goal at the time, and lines along the side denoting how much we had already made.

Someone had _drawn_ it! Eureka!

I couldn't wait to get back on the hall to Jimmy. I sat him down with ("a" ?) dry erase board and an assortment of items. I drew a crude representation of an ear at the top of the board, and a thermometer separated into ten sections. Then I picked up a small radio, turned off, and put it by his ear, indicating the empty thermometer. He had no idea what I was getting at, but he was watching and listening to me.

"This is what the thermometer looks like when there is no sound."

I then turned it on just a little, barely any sound at all, and colored in one section. He looked like he knew this was important, but didn't really get it yet.

I turned the radio up a little more, and colored in another section. I saw a glint in his eye, and he almost smiled. I turned the radio up a little more, and before I could get near the board he picked up a marker and colored in another section. Man, this kid is so smart.

"Great Big Guy! That's right. The louder the radio, the more sections are colored in."

He reached out and turned the radio up a little more, and colored in another section. He had the idea now. He turned it up some more, and colored another section…again…and again…until all ten sections were colored. I had purposefully chosen a radio that wouldn't get very loud even turned all the way up…I was trying to _help_ Jimmy, not cause another sensory spike.

I then turned it down a little and erased a section. Can't get anything past this guy. He turned it down some more and started erasing sections one at a time. Turn, erase, turn, erase. This was a long way from actually having a way for Jimmy to control his senses, but at least it was a visual representation of sound getting louder and softer.

I erased the board and drew an eye at the top, and we repeated the process for a lamp with a low watt bulb on a dimmer switch. No problem. Jimmy had this concept. We repeated similar exercises for the other senses (much harder to simulate turning those up and down, but we somehow managed), and when he was pretty sure I was done, he grabbed a tablet of drawing paper, his favorite pencils and started drawing. Each page had an expertly drawn symbol for the sense in question, and a detailed, lifelike thermometer under each, separated into ten sections.

We were on our way. We still needed a way for him to internalize these pictures, and I needed to get him to understand that he could turn his own hearing up and down, instead of the radio…his own sight instead of the lamp. So, we weren't finished, by any means…but we were _definitely _on our way!

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Found 5

I got Jimmy to make smaller versions of his beautifully drawn pictures, and put them all on one legal sized sheet. I laminated that, and took that and a dry erase marker around everywhere we went. Jimmy liked turning things up and down, and coloring in sections, but that was really as far as it went. We were making no further progress with internalizing the whole thing, or using it to manipulate his own senses.

When it finally came, it was Jimmy who found the break through.

One evening, while Jimmy was sitting at the table on the hall, drawing picture after picture, another child, Ryan, sat on the floor nearby, playing with blocks. Ryan was a ten year old, who was as obsessed with building block towers as Jimmy was with drawing everything he saw. So, Ryan, as usual, was building a magnificent (if precarious) tower. As usually happened, the thing fell down, making a _glorious_ noise, which, in my opinion, was what Ryan liked even better than building.

Jimmy flinched and threw his hands over his ears. I closed in quickly, expecting to have to talk him down from another spike, but he sat there with his hands on his ears, and looked right at me.

"Loud noise, Chief."

"Yeah, pretty loud." I answered. "It's over now, though, so you can put your hands down, buddy."

He did, but then said. "A lot of blocks?"

"Yep. That many blocks makes a pretty loud noise, doesn't it?"

He nodded, and I expected him to go back to drawing, but he didn't. He sat there, watching Ryan intently. Ryan made a tower of about 4 blocks and decided, for whatever reason that he didn't like it, so he knocked it down, so that he could start again.

"Not as loud, Chief." Jimmy noticed. I just nodded, not sure what he was getting at. He just kept watching Ryan.

This time, Ryan got his tower to 15 blocks and was putting on another one, when Jimmy put his hands on his ears, still watching. If I hadn't been afraid of knocking the tower down, I would have been doing a little happy dance. This was the first time I had ever seen Jimmy anticipate a noise.

As Jimmy had figured, the next block was more than the tower could handle, and it crashed to the ground.

With his hands still on his ears, Jimmy said, "A lot of blocks makes a lot of noise." Since we had already established that, I wasn't sure how to answer, but he continued. "A little blocks make a little noise."

He hopped up and disappeared down the hallway to his room…without dragging me with him….another little happy dance!

When he came back, he had his radio, and asked, "Any more blocks, Chief?"

I _finally_ got what he was doing. For a reasonably intelligent person, sometimes I can be a little behind the curve. I scrambled to the toy box and couldn't get the extra blocks out fast enough. I found about 15, and brought them to the table.

Jimmy counted out ten, and handed me the others, which I put aside. Then he moved all of them out of his way, and said, "No blocks, Chief," then patted his radio, "no noise."

I just sat there, with probably the absolute _silliest_ smile on my face, and just watched him go.

He turned on the radio just a little, and pulled one block in front of him on the table. Then just looked at me and smiled. He then turned up the radio, and then added a block…again and again until all ten blocks were there, and the radio was up as loud as it would go.

"Lots of blocks…lots of noise, Chief." Then he started taking them off and turning down the radio. He took his blocks all over the room, turning on the TV, the large stereo, the record player…adding blocks as he added noise. Then he made the jump and started on the lights with the dimmer switch. He was so happy with what he discovered that he stuffed his pockets with blocks and started down the hall to his room.

Dottie had watched what was happening, and had, of course, known that I was trying to find some way for him to gauge the intensity of his senses. She also knew we needed to be able to carry around any representation we were using…so, she went to the toy box, and found a set of small, plastic cubes that linked together. She handed them to me, saying that they would be easier to carry around, if Jimmy would use them instead of the larger blocks.

I went to his room, where he was playing with a bottle of cologne and a tissue…adding more cologne, as he added more blocks. I waited for him to finish, and asked him if we could use these instead, since they were easier to carry. He quickly made the transition.

After that, that became his favorite game. We took the blocks everywhere, and I would ask him "how many blocks?" When we were in a noisy room, he pulled out the tower of ten blocks and took off three…seven blocks for loud, but not painful. Normal volume was 5 blocks…a whisper was 1 block…a silent room got the whole tower shoved into his pocket. The first time he did that, I whispered, "No sound, no blocks?" He smiled, pulled out one block, and whispered back, "Whispers are one block."

We played this game for many weeks. Every conceivable situation for every sense he possessed. Apparently, 'stinky' broccoli was seven blocks, and a helping of mashed potatoes was two. Sand paper was 9, but silk was 1. We practiced everywhere. He was coming up with a consistent scale for each of his senses.

Another breakthrough came when we were again on the hall during free play time. He was at the large table sitting in the chair nearest the wall, while the noise level grew steadily as more children came into the main room. I noticed he had his blocks, adding more and more blocks, but he already had 7 and was adding an eighth, and was starting to wince. It was becoming too loud. This was the perfect time to try the last step.

"Jimmy," I started, "Sentinels can turn down their own hearing, just like you can turn down the radio."

Well, _that_ earned me a blank stare.

"Turn down the noise, Jimmy…Take off a block and make the noise go down to seven."

He continued to stare at me, but I could tell he was trying. He took off the block, but after a moment or two, put it right back on.

"It's at eight, Chief!"

"I know. It is _now_. But I want you to turn the room down to seven."

By now, he trusted me, and knew I wouldn't tell him to do something he couldn't do. So, he tried again. He took the eighth block off and put it back on 5 more times, until he finally left it off. He had done it. He lowered the level of his own hearing.

"Take off another block, big guy. Seven is still too loud, right?"

He only took a couple of tries this time. He was grinning something fierce. "Can I take another one off?"

"Sure, sport…as many as you need to be comfortable."

He took off number 6, and I thought he'd stop…'5' was normal, but he continued. He took off number 5, grinned even more intensely and took off number 4, number 3, number 2.

Okay, I was getting concerned now, because, if he got to zero, he wouldn't be able to hear at all.

I nearly shouted, "No, Sport…not all of them. I need you to be able to hear me."

He grinned even more and stuffed the last one in his pocket. I shouted again, but he smirked, leaned his chair back against the wall, crossed his arms in triumph, and said smugly, "Can't hear you, Chief. No blocks!"

I think I just created a monster!


	6. Chapter 6

Found 6

During the next several weeks, Jimmy got much better at controlling the level of his senses. He often played with them and took his hearing down to zero, just so he couldn't hear us tell him to go to bed. He liked to set the TV down really low, and turn up his hearing so that he could still hear it, but that caused some problems because the noise level in the room could go up unexpectedly at any time, so I tried to encourage him not to do that. He still liked to play with the levels, though, just because he _could_!

An unexpected benefit of all this was that Jimmy had found that he quite enjoyed playing with blocks…even when it wasn't to control his senses. He had started to sit on the floor with Ryan, and play with blocks at the same time as the younger boy. At first, they were just playing near each other. Soon enough, though, Jimmy started to reach out. He knew that Ryan knew his colors, so he'd ask Ryan if he wanted a "blue" block, or a "red" one. Ryan didn't answer at first. He really wasn't that communicative, usually. But, as time went on, Ryan started to answer Jimmy's questions, stating his preference for a "blue" one over the "red" one, etc. That developed into even more communication when Ryan started asking for a specific color before Jimmy could prompt it. Jimmy started asking Ryan to give _him_ a certain color block for _his_ tower, and Ryan almost always complied. (Blue seemed to be his favorite and he wouldn't turn over the last blue block no matter how sweetly Jimmy asked.) Finally, Jimmy started teasing Ryan. The younger boy would ask for a blue block and Jimmy would hand him a yellow one. The first time that happened, Ryan just put it down and got a blue block for himself, but the more Jimmy did it, the more Ryan figured out he was playing a different game. Finally, Ryan started teasing too, and would hand Jimmy the wrong color and laugh hysterically.

Everyone was astonished at the change in both Jimmy and Ryan. No one had ever seen _either_ boy interact this well with another child, let alone actually tease each other. Dottie decided to videotape their next play session. We often videotaped the kids to show baseline performance of certain behaviors, as well as any changes. These tapes were then kept in a secure place to protect the confidentiality of the children, but they really were very helpful to show other staff members what behaviors could be expected or what intervention worked, etc.

So, one evening, during free play on the hall, Jimmy and Ryan were doing their usual comedy routine with the blocks, and Dottie was getting it all on tape. Ryan asked for a yellow block, and Jimmy told him there were no more yellow ones (even though there were at least ten yellow ones right in front of Jimmy). Ryan picked up a yellow one and said "yellow". Jimmy tried to convince him it was blue, instead. Ryan then picked up a red one and said "no, this blue," then laughed hysterically. Jimmy tossed a red one to Ryan and said "yellow", only to have Ryan toss it back and say "blue." Both boys were laughing hysterically, and Dottie lamented that all this video was going to 'prove' was that neither boy knew his colors. Ryan had abandoned the blocks altogether and was literally rolling around on the floor, laughing. Jimmy was laughing too and decided to join his friend and roll around as well. But, as luck would have it, Jimmy landed on a pile of blocks which must have dug into his back. I don't know if all the laughing took away from Jimmy's concentration and therefore he couldn't avoid the sensory spike, or just what happened, but Jimmy screamed as if he had been knifed. He jumped up and started to kick the blocks, and jumped around slapping at himself, still screaming, until finally he started to claw at his arms and face. Anna came in and rescued a befuddled Ryan, who couldn't understand what had suddenly happened to his friend to cause such a change.

By now, Jimmy's sense of touch was completely off the chart. He was tearing at his clothes, clawing at his skin and screaming. By the time I got to him, he had completely lost any control he may have had, and had gotten his shirt completely off. Dottie, knowing that she couldn't do anything else to help, continued taping, hoping to catch a successful intervention on tape to teach other staff members how to help Jimmy in the future.

"Hey, Big Guy," I said calmly and reached out toward him, but didn't intend to actually touch him.

He screamed, "NO!" and backed away from me. "No MORE! No more touch!"

As I drew a little closer, he scrambled away and barricaded himself behind the large table near the wall. Any attempt to talk him out just earned another terrified scream as he continued to pace behind the table, smack at his arms, and dig at his chest.

His plastic blocks that he used to control his senses had fallen out of his pants pocket during all of this, and I retrieved them and moved closer to the table to give them to him.

Again he screamed. "Don't touch me! Leave me alone! No more!"

"Okay, big guy. No more touch. I know you can't handle any more touch right now."

I lightly tossed the stack of blocks onto the table so I didn't have to get any closer. "How many blocks, sport?"

He grabbed the stack and threw them at me. "All, Chief! All blocks! Too many blocks!"

"NO!" He screamed again, and sunk to the floor behind the table. Man, this one was bad. In the last several weeks, we had handled some crisis periods where there had been 8 or even 9 blocks, and he had successfully turned the problem sense down to 'five' eventually, but this time I think at _least_ a ten block level was involved.

I scooped up the stack of blocks and scooted closer to the table, slowly enough that he wouldn't think I was going to touch him.

"Jimmy," I talked softly, hoping that if he concentrated on his hearing a little, maybe it would help take him mind off of his too-sensitive sense of touch. I was grasping at straws again. "Hey, man. You have all ten blocks on here, Jim."

He was still in distress, and was still behind the table, but at least he wasn't screaming right now. "Let's take off a block, big guy. Okay?"

I managed to catch his eye, and let him watch me remove one block from the stack.

He looked at me for a moment, and seemed like he was trying to concentrate, then, "NO!!!" So much for not screaming. "Too many blocks! Too many blocks!"

"I know, sport, so let's take one off, okay?"

"Can't! No more touch!"

"I know. I'll take it off for you. You turn down your sense of touch."

He looked miserable. Poor thing was really _trying _to concentrate, but, judging by how much he was still digging at himself, his skin must be on fire.

"Watch me, Jimmy." I tried to get his attention. "I'm taking off block number 10." I had put that one back on since obviously touch was still at 10.

"Stuck, Chief!"

"Naw, it's not stuck. Look, I took it off for you, so you don't have to touch it. You just need to turn it down."

"Trying." He didn't scream it this time, at least.

"I know, buddy. I'm right here. I'm not gonna touch you til you have everything turned down to five. I won't let anyone else touch you either." I couldn't help but shoot a glance toward Chuck, where he stood leaning up again the wall on the far side of the room. He hadn't actually physically interfered with Jimmy since the fire drill incident. But he seemed to like to_ appear_ as if he was going to. He'd come close, or make noise, or just about anything he could do to be annoying, and it really bothered Jimmy. He certainly didn't need it today, so I was hoping my glance told Chuck 'do it and die.'

"I'll just keep the blocks right here until you tell me touch is at nine blocks."

He was concentrating. He had at least stopped clawing himself for the moment. "Trying, Chief." I waited for seemed like eternity. Anna had gone to get the first aid kit during this time. Those scratches were going to need tending to, but the last thing I wanted to do any time soon, was to make those sores sting. Finally, "Got it, Chief. Down to nine. Still too much."

"Right. Nine is still way too many, so I'm taking off number nine."

He concentrated again, and his answer came more quickly this time. "Turned down to eight."

"Good going, man! Ready to take off '8'?" He nodded, so I did.

It was taking him less and less time with each block to adjust his levels. "Down to seven. Take off the next one." So I took off block seven. "Down to six." I was always impressed with Jimmy's ability to control his senses if we could just get them to 7 or so. "Down to five. Down to four."

"Jimmy, this isn't a good time to go much lower than five, okay?"

"Scratches hurt, Chief." He was in control again, and looking at me, but still behind the table, rubbing his sore arms and chest.

"Okay, buddy. No lower than three, though, okay? You need to be able to feel _something_."

"Stopping at three." He just sat there for another moment.

"Can you come out now?"

"Not yet." I didn't understand why, but I trusted Jimmy to know what he needed.

"Can I come back with you?"

He thought about it for a moment, then nodded. I crawled under the table and sat against the wall beside him, not touching him at first. I noticed Dottie had taken the camera off the tripod and was in a crouch, still taping us. On the one hand, I hated to have a tape of Jimmy in this shape, but then, on the other hand, if it helped show the other staff how to handle spikes, it would give Jimmy more independence in the long run. If others could help, he wouldn't have to always have me so close.

Finally, Jimmy scooted over closer to me, and leaned against me.

"Can I hug you now, sport?" He nodded, so I did. Then he started to crawl under the table toward the main part of the living room. Crisis averted, I guess, so I followed him.

Once he got out from under the table, he noticed that Dottie was taping him. He sat down, looked right at the camera, and waved. "Hi Dottie."

Man this kid was resilient.


	7. Chapter 7

Found 7

I just let Jimmy sit and recuperate a little before I started any first aid on those scratches. I asked him if touch was still at three blocks, and he said yes, so I put some antiseptic on the scratches on his arms and chest and covered them with gauze. I couldn't really do much about the scratches on his face, though I did put some antiseptic on them. Finally, I picked up his button-less shirt along with as many buttons as I could find and started with Jimmy toward his room to retrieve another shirt. I had joked with him in the past that I was going to teach him how to sew the buttons back on all the shirts he tore off. One of these days I _will _too, but not until I'm _very _sure the sensory spikes are completely under control. Right now, if he had a needle and thread at the wrong time, a pricked finger would feel like he had cut the thing off, so, for now, seamstress Blair was at Jimmy's service.

Before we knew it, it was bedtime, but Jimmy was still too wound up to sleep. He had turned his sense of touch back up to 5 blocks, but his scratches were stinging, he had long since torn off the bandages and he didn't want the blanket on. In fact, he didn't want to lie down at all. I had him take two blocks back off, but that wouldn't last long. He didn't have any control of his senses in his sleep. He asked me to stay in his room that night. It was the first time he had asked in a long time, and it was somewhat of a special circumstance, so I told him I would.

For the first week and a half, I literally _lived _at the Center, sleeping in Jimmy's room for the first couple of nights, and then on the sofa for a while after that, just to be available to help with night-time sensory spikes or night mares.

Eventually, I was able to leave at night after he was asleep. The first several of those nights, though, I was called back in to reassure Jimmy I was still there. Finally, I asked him if he thought we could meet in the jungle, since most of the time when I wasn't there at night, I was asleep. He thought we could, though of course, we hadn't needed to since I got there. So for several nights, we did just that. There wasn't much to say, though, since we saw each other every day. But, just knowing we _could _meet there, if we needed to, seemed to help him.

The Director, Sara Marshall, had come up with a special contract for me. I worked 7AM-9PM, supposedly six days a week. I was there all seven usually, but, by law, we weren't allowed to work 7 days straight, let alone 7 days every week, so that seventh day was completely volunteered. But, with the official hours of 7-9, I could be there to get him up in the morning, and stay until he was asleep in the evening. Once he started doing well in class, I started taking Wednesdays off (well, at least part of each Wednesday) so that I could conduct any business I needed to take care of. I'd get him up in the morning, eat breakfast with him and get him to class by 9:00, then go do my laundry, shopping, banking, etc, and be back in time for lunch. After I returned him to class, I often went home for a quick nap before picking him up at class at 4:00.

That schedule worked so well over those next couple of months, that I started doing the same thing for Friday. He interacted in class a little better when I was there, but, judging from his pictures and his conversations later, he was listening to everything the teacher said even when he was in the back of the room drawing when I wasn't there.

Dottie proved to be a godsend again. She had a small efficiency apartment in the back of her house that she rented out from time to time. When I first came to Cascade, it wasn't being rented, so she said we could help each other out. Renting her apartment gave me a place to hang my hat, and more importantly, an address for various official forms, and gave her a little more income. The whole apartment only consisted of one large room, (which was divided into a bedroom section, a living room section and a small efficiency kitchen), and a small bathroom with a shower stall. It was all I needed though, and more importantly, it was furnished. I was used to using other people's furniture. Traveling all over the country for the last eight years hadn't been real conducive to collecting a lot of "things". But the absolute best feature about the apartment was that it was only 2 ½ miles away. On days I wasn't at the Center, or during the night, if Jimmy should happen to need me, someone called my cell phone and I could be there in 10 minutes. That was a big help.

So, usually, I went home at night, with the understanding that I'd be right back if Jimmy really needed me. He didn't usually need to call me back any more, though. He had, for the most part, decided that I was going to stick around, but if he needed to reassure himself that I was still there, we just met in the jungle for a few minutes. So, when he asked me to stay tonight, I realized he must still be using quite a lot of his concentration to control his sense of touch, and was probably afraid that he'd have a spike due to those scratches, once he went to sleep. To be honest, I was a little afraid of that, myself. So, I was happy to stay.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

The next day was Wednesday, but Jimmy had had such a rough night, I stayed with him through his morning classes. After lunch, though, he said that his scratches felt much better and that he would be fine in class by himself in the afternoon. It was the first time he voluntarily went someplace without me for any length of time. I was very proud of him.

The rest of the week went along uneventfully, and finally it was Saturday. I had finally gotten permission to take Jimmy off campus for a while, and today was to be our first big outing. I had considered our first destination carefully. The most convenient thing would have been to take him to the mall. All the things a kid could want were there…ice cream, toys, trendy clothes…even a costume shop, which I especially thought Jimmy would like. Lots of Indian outfits and policeman outfits. But, caution won out, and I took him to a small art supply store just down the road from the Center. I figured there wouldn't be that many people, so noise would probably be kept to a minimum. I had visited the store myself the previous week, so I knew there were no strong odors or uncomfortably bright lights. I figured, armed with those facts, and the fact that I wasn't going to let him touch much or taste _anything, _we should be okay.

I had told Jimmy about the upcoming trip earlier in the week and he had been a little less than enthusiastic. I think he was just a little apprehensive, but I didn't want to force it on him if he wasn't ready. I told him to think about it and we'd decide on Saturday. When Saturday came, he decided he wanted to try.

We got to my car okay. He didn't want to wear the seatbelts because he said they 'cut' him. We adjusted the blocks a little, and he finally was able to leave them on. Off we were on our first outing.

Even though the store was small, it proved to be a little overwhelming. I don't think I truly realized just how much everyone at the Center tried to manipulate the environment for the kids, and just how used to the 'normal' noise at the Center that Jimmy had become. He handled all the tantrums and screams at the Center so well now, it didn't occur to me that it would be different out in the 'real world'. When we first entered the Art store, there was a mother with a small child just inside the door. Of course the child wanted an art kit featured on a low shelf and the mother had other ideas, so the child was screaming bloody murder. Jimmy clapped his hands over his ears and dropped to the floor immediately. The college student working the register glanced over with a disgusted look as if to say 'great, now we have _two_ screaming brats.' I hadn't thought to check the work schedule of the staff at the store. The other day when I had cased the place, the young lady behind the counter had been so patient and kind, I was sure she'd have no problem with Jimmy. The young man working today was anything _but_ patient. Working the schedule I work, I think I honestly forgot that the rest of the world separated the work week into weekdays and weekend days. This guy was obviously weekend help.

"If you can't control your br… kids, please take them outside." The clerk obviously was no longer satisfied with disgusted looks. I guess, to give him his due, an Art store isn't exactly the kind of place that would expect a lot of children as patrons, so maybe he just didn't have much experience with them. But, what I couldn't explain to him was that I couldn't just leave with Jimmy. The young mother had scooped up the screaming preschooler and was out the door as soon as the clerk had spoken, but Jimmy was just too big for me to manhandle, even if I was so inclined. Meanwhile, the clerk kept saying all sorts of unkind things whose only effects were that of distracting me from helping Jimmy, and of making Jimmy even more upset. The more vocal the clerk got, the more Jimmy rocked and screamed, which, of course sparked more anger in the employee. I swear, I wouldn't have been surprised if this kid was Chuck's little brother. Surely that kind of vehemence wasn't widespread enough to just show up so often in the general public.

I finally lost control, "If you'll just shut up, _sir,_" I spit out the honorary title, "I'd be able to help my young charge calm down and we won't take up any more of your valuable time."

Amid a sputtered reply, the clerk retreated back to the counter, and I could get down to the business of calming Jimmy. Finally able to focus my attention on Jimmy alone, I noticed that he had the stack of ten blocks out of his pocket. He kept taking the top one off and putting it back on. I'd seen him do this many times…he'd try to turn the problematic sense down to nine but when it didn't work, he'd put the tenth block back on and start over. What I _hadn't_ seen before was Jimmy start this process without any prompting from me. Before I could actually say anything to help, he took it off one more time and left it off. Then he started on the next one. Once he got to 8 blocks, he pretty quickly got his sense of hearing down to 5, and finally was able to look around the store.

"Hey Chief! A paint set!" And he was off like a shot to inspect the same set that caused the young mother so much trouble. Fortunately, I didn't have to say no when, after looking at everything else in the store, Jimmy decided that it was that first paint set that he wanted to take home. I had come in with the plan to buy him something. Jimmy was supported by the state and his father sent the smallest of checks for clothing and necessities, as the Center required, but the staff often bought him extra things to make life a little better for him.

After an hour of looking at literally everything in the store, we finally stood in front of the surly young clerk, and with matching Cheshire cat smiles, Jimmy and I made our first purchase together. I think the clerk thought our visit was the absolute worse thing to happen to him that whole day, but, with not only a newly purchased art set, but the new experience of having seen Jimmy manage his senses totally on his own, I considered the trip an unmitigated success.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Later that evening, Jimmy was seated at the large table on the hall, drawing yet another item he had seen in the store, while some of the staff and a few children were watching the news on the nearby TV. I didn't really pay any attention when the anchor announced a new candidate for the gubernatorial race. Somewhere in my subconscious, I noticed the name of "William Ellison", but hadn't really paid much attention, let alone make any connection. For all that I had now been in Cascade for more than six months, I hadn't really followed local politics or kept any kind of tabs on important people in the area. It wasn't until I heard Dottie mutter, "Well, shit!" that I started paying attention. Dottie never cursed…not even at Chuck…who in my opinion certainly earned it most of the time.

"What, Dottie?" I tore my attention away from Jimmy's drawing and focused more attention on the TV when I saw that that was what Dottie had responded to.

"Jimmy's so called father!" She answered.

"Huh?" Okay, not the best comeback, but I was utterly confused. Jimmy hadn't seen his father in eight years and no one had ever mentioned him before except to criticize his small checks and utter lack of involvement with his son.

"William Ellison, Jimmy's father, just decided to run for governor!"

Seeing my still confused look, Anna explained further, "William Ellison is arguably the richest man in Cascade. He's very influential in local politics, though he's never actually run for office before. Everyone seems very interested in having him run for office, any office, and recently, there've been rumors that he might actually run for governor this year. I guess it's official now."

"Jimmy's father, who, in eight years, has not sent one cent towards his son's upkeep beyond the absolute minimum required amount, is the area's richest man?" I couldn't believe it. "A man that rich puts his son in a state run institution and just leaves him there, but everyone wants this man as governor?'

"As far as we know, no one knows about Jimmy." Anna seemed as disgusted as I felt.

"He's daddy's dirty little secret." Leave it to Chuck to pipe in with a comment like that. We all did what we usually did and ignored him completely. He continued leaning against a nearby wall, and watched the TV intently.

"Well, heaven help the state of Washington if William Ellison can't take any more interest in _its _welfare than he has his son's." Dottie's statement seemed to signify the end of the conversation, so everyone went back to doing what they had been before, me included. It wasn't until then that I noticed that Jimmy had stopped drawing, and was watching his father's face on TV as intently as Chuck was.


	8. Chapter 8

Found 8

You know, Chuck can be a class-A jerk any day of the week. This particular day, I think he was bucking for president of all jerks!

Jimmy and Ryan were once again on the floor, playing with blocks, this time actually cooperating on a tower. That was a hard earned accomplishment. For weeks after Jimmy's little 'episode' the day his sense of touch went out of control, Ryan had given him wide berth. He just did _not_ understand why his friend suddenly started screaming and scratching himself, and quite frankly, I think he was afraid of Jimmy for a while…afraid, at the very least, that it would happen again…or possibly even a little afraid that Jimmy would hurt _him_ next time.

I had to hand it to Jimmy. He refused to lose Ryan as a friend. He was arguably Jimmy's first friend ever, and Jimmy was fighting hard to keep him. He had patiently tried to approach Ryan every time the younger boy played with the blocks. He seemed to instinctively know that the teasing would not be welcomed immediately, so he seemed to start over…first just playing beside Ryan, and gradually starting to interact. Over time, Ryan became used to Jimmy again, and seemed to lose his fear of the situation. They were finally back to their old comedy act when something remarkable happened. It was actually Ryan who took the next step. They had each been building towers of various designs when Jimmy asked for a blue block for a specified place on his tower. Ryan not only got the right color, but actually put the block on Jimmy's tower where the older boy had indicated it was going to go. Ryan seemed to watch Jimmy closely for any sign of upset, but Jimmy just asked for another color and showed Ryan where he wanted to put it. Both boys were beaming as they completed first Jimmy's tower and then Ryan's with Ryan telling Jimmy what block went where and Jimmy putting them there. It was another event that Dottie felt _had_ to be captured on tape. Ryan got a little freaked out when she first brought out the video recorder, I guess because he associated it with Jimmy's melt-down the last time it had appeared. But he had soon gotten over it, and the staff was beaming as brightly as the boys were by the end of the play session.

They had cooperated on each other's towers many times over the next several weeks. But, on this particular day, Jimmy and Ryan were making only one tower collectively, actually consulting each other about what color should go where and whose turn it was to put it there. It was another Saturday and a rainy one at that, so the boys had been at the tower thing for a while. It was coming up on time for dinner, and all the kids were taking turns washing hands, getting clothes changed if needed (which was often needed here for various reasons) and just generally anything else that needed to be done in preparation. The boys were almost done, so Anna and I had decided to just leave them until last for the hand washing. We told them it would be time to go soon, and they seemed to be wrapping it up. Near as we could tell, they only had another layer or so, as it appeared that their tower was building to a point. We gave them the 'five minute warning' and they seemed fine with that.

Chuck had been going down an alphabetical list of the kids names to decide whose turn it was to wash their hands. Jimmy, by virtue of a last name starting with "E" was seventh in line, in Chuck's mind, since there was one child whose name started with "B", three with "C", and two with "D". Both Anna and I told him we would make sure both the boys got ready in time, and for him to just skip them and go to the next name. Chuck, being Chuck and self-appointed organizer of hand-washing duty, didn't like "being told how to do his job," and decided it was Jimmy's turn…now!

"Common, brat," He interrupted harshly. "Time to get ready for dinner."

"Almost finished. Chief said 5 more minutes." Jimmy really was being very polite. He didn't transition well between activities, and always needed the 5 minute warning, as most of the children here did. Apparently, Chuck didn't care.

"Well, thank the good lord, I am NOT, 'Chief', and _I_ say it's time to wash hands."

"Chuck, I'm responsible for Jimmy." I had to get Chuck off of this track. There was 'disaster' written all over this whole situation. "He'll be ready in time. Go on to the next kid."

"Come on, brat." Chuck ignored me.

"Not done yet." Jimmy answered…okay, he was starting to get a little snotty, but the kid had reason to be, in my opinion.

Chuck, class-A jerk that he is, kicked out a foot, bringing the entire tower down, and said, "Now you're finished. Time to go!" Then he grabbed Jimmy's arm.

"Let him go, Chuck," I yelled as soon as I could, but not before Jimmy dropped to the ground, screaming….sensory spike or just plain temper tantrum, I wasn't really sure. Apparently, Ryan didn't care which it was. All he saw was someone being mean to his friend. He hauled off and kicked Chuck in the leg hard enough to leave a _good_ bruise the next day. Chuck forcibly pushed Jimmy's arm away, which caused him to fall on his side, and grabbed Ryan by the waist. Ryan was a small child, and Chuck had no trouble picking him up and heading toward the calm room. I rushed toward Jimmy, and Anna followed Chuck. Calm rooms are _not_ time out rooms. The children were _never_ to be left alone in them. However, this time, Chuck seemed to be just angry enough not to care. He dumped Ryan unceremoniously on the floor of the calm room and slammed the door. Now, one of Ryan's many fears was being locked in some place. He didn't even use the elevator. He was _seriously_ claustrophobic. Chuck didn't care about that either.

I hadn't seen that part of the whole thing, as I was trying to get Jimmy to calm down. Apparently, either Jimmy just responded emotionally to the tower being knocked down, or he got his senses under control without the blocks, because it didn't take much to calm him down. I was just getting him to stand up and sit on the couch, when Anna screamed my name.

I told Jimmy to stay on the couch and I rushed down the hall. Ryan was completely out of control in the room, with Chuck still blocking the door. Anna kept trying to get him to step away so she could deal with Ryan, and Chuck said, "When the little shit stops screaming, he can come out. I'll teach the bastard to kick me!"

What Chuck didn't realize or didn't care about was that Ryan wasn't _going_ to calm down as long as he was locked in that room. Anna and I did our best to talk Chuck down; noticing Ryan's screams were getting labored as he started to gasp for breath. He was hyperventilating. I finally actually tried to pull Chuck out of the way, which was really stupid because the guy outweighs me by almost a hundred pounds, and was now almost as out of control as Ryan was. Chuck grabbed my shirt and almost literally threw me back against the hallway wall just beside the door to the calm room. It was just enough for Anna to get the room open and go to Ryan's side.

By now, the other two staff members who had been helping children get ready for dinner, came out of the bathroom and a nearby bedroom to see what the problem was. For the most part, we all kind of tune out screams and noise like this. None of the kids are ever out of the sight of _some_ staff member, so unless staff member's voices are involved, nobody really paid much attention to noises coming from groups other staff members were responsible for. We all know that if the staff responsible needs help, they'll yell. There were plenty of staff member's voices involved here, though …enough to finally bring Stacy and Hank away from their respective assignments, and into the hall. Stacy took one look at Chuck holding me against the wall, and called the administrator on call. Hank came over to forcibly remove Chuck's hand from my shirt if necessary. It wasn't. As soon as Chuck saw the cavalry coming, he grunted, "Fine, coddle that one too," and walked away.

Meanwhile, Anna was trying desperately to calm Ryan's breathing but by now he was holding his chest and had his head pushed into Anna's chest…obviously experiencing the chest pains and headache that can come with hyperventilation. I hollered for Stacy to call the doctor too, right as Ryan passed out. That at least afforded Anna the opportunity to get the poor kid to his bed, but seeing the unconscious body of his friend carried down the hall was enough to set Jimmy off again. This time it was obvious that it wasn't due to a sensory spike. Jimmy was just spitting mad, and started throwing anything that came to hand. Just because he happened to be a twelve year old sentinel, obviously didn't mean he couldn't just have a good old fashion raging temper tantrum.

What a mess! Where do I go to vote for "the king of the jerks"? I think Chuck just earned the undisputed title!


	9. Chapter 9

Found 9

By this time we had several students in full melt-down mode, one child hiding under his bed and refusing to come out, and one still spitting mad sentinel. All these guys were emotional barometers and the tension on the hall was palpable even to me. The four still-sane staff members certainly had their hands full just preventing injury to any of the kids. None of us either knew or cared where Chuck was at the moment.

Ryan started waking up shortly after Anna got him to his room. She had put him on his bed and now tried to reassure him that he wasn't trapped any more, and that he was with friends. As soon as Jimmy had decided he had thrown just about everything that he could actually pick up, he insisted on going to Ryan's room. His presence actually seemed to calm Ryan down a little and being in his friend's room seemed to help Jimmy get his emotions under control…a bit. I had no doubt that if Jimmy was a little bigger, he would have cold-cocked Chuck. Too bad he wasn't. He might have been able to get away with what all four of the rest of us _wanted_ to do.

It was taking both the doctor and the administrator a little while to get there. Being a weekend, they had both been home, but on call. Fortunately, neither lived that far away, and the doctor arrived about 10 minutes after being called. The on-call administrator, who, that day, was the Assistant Director of the Center, lived a little farther out, but was on his way.

Doctor Brown examined Ryan and gave him some Tylenol for the headache and chest pains he was still experiencing. He thought it might be best if we just let him have something light for dinner, and allowed him to stay in his room for the rest of the evening…with the door open. The doctor suggested that we take the rest of the children to dinner while he stayed with Ryan. He assured us that he would send the Administrator down to the cafeteria as soon as he got to the Center. The four of us rounded up all the children and started toward the cafeteria. Jimmy refused to leave, and the doctor said he would be fine where he was. I decided to bring his dinner back to him to eat on the hall, but it would have to be after the rest of the children finished eating. We were down to 4 staff with 12 children who would be going to the cafeteria. There were several students who pretty much required one on one attention on good days. Today was definitely _not_ a good day. Even kids who were usually quite self-sufficient were having a hard time keeping it together right then. Fortunately, Stacy had had the presence of mind to call Dottie and Tara after making her other calls, so reinforcements were on the way.

Also under the heading of 'keeping your head while others around you are losing theirs', Stacy had called the cafeteria staff and gave them the Reader's Digest version of "The Adventures on Hall 3-B." So, the staff had kept our food warm and was watching for us, even though, by then, most of the other halls had come and gone. Dottie was already there when we got there, and Tara joined us shortly. As the two staff members who lived closest to the Center (if I was already working), both Tara and Dottie had long since volunteered to be on-call on their days off in case of extreme situations. This certainly qualified. I was glad Stacy had called them _both_. We were going to need all the help we could get to get this situation under control.

Most of the children didn't eat much. Hank went back and grabbed a couple of bags full of fruit and a box of graham crackers. We most likely were going to have a bunch of hungry kids later when everything calmed down.

About ten minutes after we got to cafeteria, we got a call from Doctor Brown, telling us that Mr. Davidson, the Administrator, had arrived and opted to wait there for us to get back to the hall. He was talking to Chuck first. That ought to put an interesting spin on things. I'd _love_ to hear _that_ conversation.

Once we got the kids back to the hall, Tara, Dottie, Hank, and Stacy corralled them in the large living room area and tried to get them interested in some leisure activities. Jimmy and Ryan were still in the younger boy's room. Ryan was sound asleep, and Jimmy was standing guard. The doctor had gathered up his things and was preparing to leave now that we were all back on the hall. Anna and I went to talk to Mr. Davidson in the office. Again, Chuck had disappeared to 'we didn't care where'.

Assistant Director Jack Davidson was a laid-back character who was extraordinarily good at putting people at ease, even in stressful situations, so the discussion went smoothly and when emotions occasionally ran high, he calmly waited for us to regain our composure. We found out later that Chuck had already been fired before we even said the first word, just on the basis of what we had told the doctor, even though Chuck had, predictably, put his own spin on the situation. But, of course, documentation was needed for all the paperwork, so he took notes on everything, and just let us talk it out.

Chuck had, apparently, been cleaning out his locker, and was just rounding the corner by the office when we were coming out. Chuck's expression told us that if he had thought he could get away with it, one or both of us would be lying dead on the floor. I'd like to think my own expression_ didn't_ mirror the anger I saw in Chuck's, but I'm not at all sure that was true. Anna's was telling him to bring it on and he'd get as good as he got. He _would_ have too. That lady's a spit-fire when she wanted to be.

Chuck forced himself to walk by, and just before hitting the bar to open the door exiting the hall, he flung a murderous look in my direction and said, "This isn't over, Messiah."


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: You've got to love the re-popularity of old TV shows. Hopefully enough people will catch the Dragnet reference to have made it worth-while. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, Dragnet is an old detective show following partners "Joe Friday" a taciturn sergeant that was always looking for "just the facts", and "Bill Gannon", also a sergeant, who basically just stood beside Friday while he investigated cases. (He did more than that obviously, but that's more or less the cliché about him).**

**A/N (Warning): There needs to be a warning on this part for any **_**extremely**_** sensitive readers I might have, but if I put it here, it will ruin the effect for everyone else. For that reason, I've put the warning at the bottom of this chapter. Scroll down if you have any special sensitivities, but be aware that it will spoil the story somewhat. I promise, NOTHING explicit is shown or even discussed, but some might not even want the mere mention of the subject that is (unjustly) brought up in this section. Read it. I'm sure I'm making more of it than necessary. You'll know the part when you get there. I just want to be extra cautious. Even though it **_**is**_** now winter and flames could be used to heat my house, I'd **_**still**_** rather not get any.**

Found 10

Both Director Sara Marshall and Assistant Director Jack Davidson urged me to press assault charges on Chuck for having slammed me up against the wall. After much contemplation, I decided not too. I figured it was really not that much of an assault and the most he could get under the law would be a slap on the wrist. All _that_ would accomplish would be to make him angrier and more out for blood than he already was. My only concern had always been that he not hurt Jimmy. He's out of the way now, so can't possibly hurt my young sentinel, so, I say "Out of sight, out of mind," "Good riddance to bad rubbish," and any other cliché that might apply.

The next two weeks went surprisingly smoothly. Jimmy was improving by leaps and bounds each day, and as an unexpected consequence, he was taking Ryan with him. This 10 year old boy, before his friendship with Jimmy, had hardly spoken to anyone. He had enough words to identify numbers, letters, and colors, give his personal information, ask for help with his basic needs and to ask for favored food or activities, but really didn't converse at all. With Jimmy, he started to have small conversations. Limited vocabulary, to be sure, but he was talking about non-essential things, and was starting to initiate the conversations.

He'd seek Jimmy out and ask him to play; they had started playing with more than just blocks, too. Jimmy was trying to teach him to draw. Ryan loved all the colors, and loved spending time with Jimmy, but really wasn't much of an artist. Nevertheless, Jimmy insisted that Ryan ask to have his artwork put up on the walls, and encouraged him to give the pictures to people. Seems the importance of that hadn't escaped Jimmy after all, even though he still didn't ask for the same treatment for his own artwork. I asked him once why he never asked to have them put up, or specifically gave them to anyone. He told me he didn't need to. They got up on the wall anyway, and people took the ones they liked. So, for him, the system already in place worked, so why 'fix' it?

Throughout those two weeks, Dottie was a budding movie maker. She insisted that the boys' interaction be taped just about any spare minute she had. Even still, she was puzzled when she turned up with fewer blank tapes than she thought she had. She found a couple that had been misplaced, but still couldn't account for one. We all figured that having one less than the inventory said we should have wasn't really a big concern. We noted it missing on the weekly report of items used, etc, but otherwise put it out of our heads and enjoyed the quiet lull that seemed to have settled in on the hall.

I should have known the quiet was too good to last.

One evening, after dinner, the kids were busy on various activities in the living room area. We would have normally had them outside playing at this time, but it was raining again. It seemed to do that a _lot_ in Cascade. What I didn't know at the time was that the weather would fit my mood by the end of the evening.

The Director appeared, out of the blue, with two policemen. That got everyone's curiosity going, and captured Jimmy's attention right away. He loved anything to do with cops, and having two of them right here in his home was exciting to him…at first.

"Blair Sandburg," one of them stated. The Director shot him a look. Later I found out that she had told him that _she_ would do the talking, but this guy was a real 'Sergeant Friday' type…no nonsense, down to business. "We need you to come with us."

I stepped forward, curious. It had occurred to me that Chuck could actually press assault charges on me too, if he wanted to. I _had_ grabbed him and tried to pull him away from the door. I doubt it would stick, but he could make trouble. I figured that was what this was. "What's the trouble, officer?"

"You're under arrest for the sexual abuse of one James Ellison."

There was a moment of stunned silence, then everyone spoke at once.

"WHAT??!!!???"

"You've got to me kidding me!!!"

"Where did you get _that_ crap?"

"What's going on, Sara?"

"Chief, arrest is _bad,_ right?"

I addressed that last one while everyone else continued to babble shocked statements. Kneeling down to Jimmy's level, and putting my hands on his shoulders to ground him in case he became upset, I told him, "Arrest is usually bad, Jimmy. This is a mistake, though, so we'll get it all straightened out. No problem."

'Sergeant Friday' took exception to my being that close to the child I had supposedly abused, and took my arm. "Step away from the child." I rose quickly. I didn't need to make this situation worse than it already was.

"Officer," I started, "This is all a big mistake….Tell him, Sara."

"I _did_ Blair. Repeatedly and loudly. Neither of them would listen to me."

"Enough evidence has been submitted to issue this warrant for your arrest, Mr. Sandburg." This started another round of incredulous statements. "There's no mistake about that." The officer continued, "I need you to come with me now."

"Evidence!" I managed to be heard above the din, "What _evidence_ could there possibly _be_?"

The officer ignored me and reached for his cuffs. The silent guy that I had mentally dubbed as 'Officer Gannon' handed Sara another warrant. These two were so much like the cops on Dragnet that I almost expected the 'talkative' one to say "Just the facts, sir." But, apparently he thought he _had_ the facts and wasn't going to listen to reason. Damn, this was serious.

Sara read the paper handed to her, and in the biggest burst of anger I had ever seen from her said, "No, absolutely NOT. I don't care _what _your subpoena says. I _will not_ subject Jimmy to that!" 

"Mam, you don't have any say in the matter. The boy's father has signed for the exam. Either _you_ will arrange a trip to the emergency room for that child to be examined…by a non-biased doctor…or _we_ will take him."

"Okay, take me. I want to go with Blair!"

"Jimmy, hush a minute buddy." I was too upset to say much to Jimmy without getting him upset too. To the officer I continued, "I'm assuming this exam will be checking for signs of sexual abuse…anal tearing, and stuff like that." He said nothing, just nodded. "You can't _do_ that! That would be as traumatic for him as what you're accusing me of!" I looked for support. "Sara, you _can't_ let them do this!"

"Sir, you _will_ calm down, right now. We're already going to make a note that you want to deny the boy a procedure that could prove you guilty…now if you come along now, we'll…." 

"I wouldn't give a _damn_ about whether or not you do the test if all I was worried about was the results! I _KNOW_ what the results will be. I'm just worried about Jimmy! He won't do well in the hospital surroundings themselves, let alone invasive procedures!"

"Officer," Sara tried to be the voice of reason, "Can't we do the exam here? Bring any doctor you want, if you don't want Dr. Brown to do it, but let the boy be in familiar surroundings."

"That's not what the subpoena calls for."

"Surely you can think outside the box a little." Sara again. I had to give her credit. At least her _voice_ was 100 calm. _ I_ was about to explode. Dottie was just waiting her turn to lay into the officers and Anna was trying to keep Jimmy calm. Hank had gone to help Tara herd the other children away from the problem area. "Call the precinct. See if those arrangements would be okay. This child is Autistic. There is no way he'll be able to tolerate all the noise, and busy-ness of a hospital ER. You can stay with the boy until the doctor of your choice gets here, but I really _must _insist that this child not leave this facility."

"We have the signature of the boy's father…"

"To do the exam! But _I_ have the signature of the boy's father…albeit years back…to take care of this child the best way I can, and to ensure his safety and continued health...mental as well as physical health. I can get our resident doctor _and_ resident psychologist to attest to the fact that a trip to the ER will _not_ be in this child's best interest! "

'Officer Gannon' beat 'Joe Friday' to the punch, and had already called in to the precinct. In short order, he got permission for Jimmy to stay here for the exam. They were arranging for a doctor to come as soon as possible. There was still the matter of the exam itself!

"Sara…" I pleaded.

Dottie knew where I was going with this, but if I said anything else that looked like I didn't want a test that would supposedly prove that I did something _horrible_ to Jimmy, it wouldn't look good for the case (great, I'm a _case_ now) and the officers would simply dismiss any argument from me, anyway. "Sirs, can't Jimmy be sedated before the exam? He really wouldn't tolerate the invasive procedure very well."

"That's not my decision," 'Sergeant Friday' started.

The other officer finished, "We can ask the doctor when he gets here if there would be any medical reason why the child _couldn't _be sedated first. I can't really see how it would affect the gathering of evidence."

"Thank you." I said quietly. I _had _to get myself together. Jimmy was getting more and more confused and upset by all this. I had to get myself under control so I could help him.

I knelt back down, and started to talk to Jimmy, "Sport…"

The first officer jerked me back up again and started putting the cuffs on me.

"This isn't necessary! I'll come with you! Just let me calm Jimmy down first!"

"Mr. Sandburg, we are _not_ in the habit of letting pedophiles scare the crap out of their victims. You're no doubt going to say something to the boy that will seem innocuous to us, but _he_ will know it's a threat because you've prompted that response during one of your…um...sessions!"

"What!???!!" Okay, I lost it. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! I've never _had_ any 'um…sessions' with Jimmy. That's sick, man! I would _never_ hurt Jimmy!"

Jimmy had started crying as soon as the handcuffs came out, and was on the floor completely inconsolable at this point. Anna looked at Dottie, signaling her to take over with Jimmy and came over to me…where I now stood with hands cuffed behind my back, being strong-armed by the quiet officer while I yelled at the other one.

"Blair," Anna said quietly, putting her hands on my face to get me to focus on her, not the officers. "Jimmy's taking his cue from you on this. You're upset and spitting mad…with due reason…but he doesn't understand any of this and …" 

"Anna, _I_ don't understand any of this! What evidence could they have for something that didn't happen?"

"I don't know, Blair." She kept her voice quiet, and thankfully, the officers were allowing this much interaction. "You've got to get it together for Jimmy, man."

God, she was right, but _how _on Earth was I supposed to calm him down if they wouldn't let me even _talk_ to him, much less _touch_ him. Touch always worked the best for Jimmy.

"She's right," I said to the officer as Anna sank back to the floor to be with Jimmy, "I apologize for my outburst. That was inappropriate. But, p_lease_ let me talk to him! Just talk! You can take down every word I say. Analyze it later to see if there was any hidden threat. _Please!_ I _can't_ leave him like this!"

"I'll take responsibility, if that will help," I had forgotten that Sara was still there. I would be grateful later for everyone's support. Right now, all that got through to my muddled brain about this whole situation was that Jimmy was on the floor in a serious melt-down, and I was about to be pulled away. Sara was still talking, however. "Blair is really the only one who can calm the child down. He's going to start hyperventilating if we don't get him calmed soon, and _that_ wouldn't be in his best interest either!"

One officer nodded and the other let go of my arms. I knelt down to talk to Jimmy where he laid on the floor face down, writhing and screaming. Somewhere in my peripheral vision I noticed Dottie, Hank and Tara trying to get the other kids back under control. Like usual, tension anywhere on the hall tended to have a domino effect.

Anna knew by now that Jimmy needed touch to help him calm down, so she rubbed circles on his back while I spoke to him, "Come on Big Guy. You need to get this under control. Come on. Lie still, Jimmy."

He finally did do _that_ much and his screams were slowly transitioning into sobs. Anna pulled him up to a sit and leaned him against her, still rubbing circles while I spoke. "That's it, Sport. Man, I _know_ it's hard to stay calm right now. You're doing great, Jim."

A few more moments and he was just silently crying. He tried to hug me, but, of course, I couldn't return it, and that was beginning to upset him again. "Hey. It's okay Big Guy. You _know_ I'd hug you if I could, but I need to go with these nice policemen now, okay? And it's their rule that I have to be in cuffs. Everything will be okay, Sport."

He sat back against Anna, and looked me in the eye. His voice was so broken, it broke my heart. "I don't want you to go, Chief."

"I know Jimmy. But, remember when your teacher talked about policemen in class?" He nodded. "She said they are there to _help_ people, right?" Another nod. "Well, right now, for some reason, these nice men think that it will help everyone if I went with them for a while." He definitely wasn't convinced. "I'll be back as soon as I can!" I heard the lead policeman say something about threatening the child with the fact that he's not safe for long even when I'm gone, but I focused on Jimmy. "We have to listen to policemen, right, Sport? When you're all big and become a policeman, and you think it would be best for someone to come with you, you would want them to listen to you, right? Even if they really _really _didn't want to go, right?" 

"I guess, Chief, but…"

"I know buddy. We'll get this worked out, okay? For right now, I'm going with these policemen, and you're going to stay here with Anna. She can help you with the blocks, okay? You listen to her." Right then, Dr. Brown entered the hall, waiting for the other doctor to come. To this day, I have no idea who called him in the middle of all this turmoil, but his presence reminded me of that awful exam. "And Jim, Dr. Brown and another doctor need to make sure you're not hurt anywhere, okay? And…"

"I didn't hurt myself this time, Chief!" He was utterly bewildered. "See? No scratches!"

"I know Buddy. You did _such_ a good job of remembering not to scratch, even when you were upset. I'm really proud of you, but the doctors still need to look all over and make sure there are no ouches there from any other time, okay?" I looked at the officer in charge, "Did we decide he could be sedated?"

With the most compassion I had seen since he got here, he said, "Well, the doctor's not here yet, but…I don't see where it would hurt anything. I'm willing to sign off on it, if his own doctor thinks it would be okay for him to have it." He looked at Dr. Brown who nodded. Sara must have told him who the doctor was when he got here, but I hadn't been listening to anyone but Jimmy at that point.

"Thank you." I said to him, and then turned to Jimmy. "Okay buddy. Dr. Brown is going to go with you to your own bedroom, and he's going to give you a shot, okay?"

He tensed. "I don't _like_ shots, Chief."

"I know, buddy. But, you can take all the blocks off if you want, and you won't feel a thing, okay?" I waited for his nod. "Then the shot is going to help you take a nap, okay?" I waited for him to tell me he wasn't sleepy, but it didn't come. "Then, while you're asleep, the doctors are going to look for those ouches, okay?"

"Okay, but Chief…I don't want you to go!!!"

"Aw buddy. If I could stay you _know_ I would! You _know _that, right?"

"You won't stay away forever like Mommy and Daddy?"

"No buddy! Never ever ever!" It occurred to me, though, in this screwed up situation, I didn't have a clue if I'd be coming back any time soon. Depending on what trumped up 'evidence' they had, I could be away a _long_ while! "And, if I can't be here in person, Bud, we can meet in the jungle when I'm asleep, okay?" He nodded. "Remember, I won't be there when I'm awake. Not because I don't want to be, okay? You'll just have to wait until I'm asleep!"

I knew the compassion couldn't last long. "What is all this talk about jungles? Is this a code to the boy that you have ways of getting to him even when we have you locked up? You SCUM!"

"It's not a code, I swear." Apparently, time was up. 'Friday' jerked me up, none too gently, and between him and 'Gannon' I was almost literally being pulled to the door. So much for calming Jimmy down. He tried to get loose of Anna's gentle hug, and she had to start holding on to him in earnest. The more he struggled, the more upset he became. The last thing I saw and heard before I went through the door was Jimmy breaking free from Anna, running down the hallway for all he was worth, and hollering "CHIEF!!!"

"" "" "" "" "" ""

TBC

A/N: I apologize for the unintentional cliff-hanger. Next part is coming soon.

A/N: (Warning): There is mention of, but absolutely no description of, child sexual abuse. In this and in upcoming parts there will be discussions of symptoms exhibited by victims of such abuse, and intimations of a somewhat intrusive (and to a child quite traumatic) medical procedure to check for damage from such abuse. (although this is left entirely up to the imagination and is not described at all, only mentioned as being traumatic.) There is absolutely nothing "on screen" (or off screen either for that matter, since the charge is unfounded). I don't really think it requires a higher than teen rating, but some people are quite sensitive to this topic for one reason or another and I wanted to give the heads-up. _Absolutely nothing graphic!_ I don't _do_ graphic!

A/N: Only the initial demeanor of the two policemen bore any resemblance to the Dragnet characters. Any negative traits associated with the policemen in this story do not reflect an opinion on the Dragnet detectives…just in case some one is _really _into Dragnet. Don't want to offend anyone.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: As noted in part 10, the rest of the story deals with the issue of child abuse in a peripheral way, but only from a clinical point of view (mentions of symptoms, etc.) Absolutely nothing graphic. Thanks to PunkyRabbit for the beta work.

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own them. Have you _seen_ the beat up van I drive?

Found 11:

After a silent ride to the precinct, and being booked, they threw my butt in a cell…thankfully a private one. I don't even want to _think_ about how other prisoners might have treated me if they thought I was a child molester. Man, I couldn't believe this was happening! I just couldn't think of anything that they might have that they would think was evidence of something like _this_! I did know, or _thought_ I knew, how they got their hands on whatever it was. Chuck did say that "this wasn't over." The thing is I've never exactly been sure what I've done to piss him off….certainly not _this_ much. This doesn't have to be _true_ to stick, and if it sticks, what was Jimmy going to do? He'd be back to guideless status! He'd learned so much and could handle his senses so much better than when I first got there, even for short periods without me around. But, had he learned enough to go through the rest of his life with no guide? Were the sources I read when I was researching even right about that? Was there just _one _chosen guide with all others just being temporary? Can a 'temporary' guide be there full time if the chosen guide can't be? Shit. This was a mess. My hat was certainly off to Chuck. This was a pretty good way to get back at me!

"" "" "" "" ""

I found out much later, that, while I was stewing in jail, thinking murderous thoughts about Chuck (hey, if I was going to go to jail for a long time, anyway, I'd rather it be for something I actually _did_!) Anna was having a horrible time getting Jimmy calmed down. He screamed for a solid five minutes, beating his hands black and blue against the door, trying to get to me. Fortunately, Anna had the presence of mind to engage the dead bolt at the top of the door which was out of Jimmy's reach. He couldn't get out. All he could do was beat on the door. Hank took over for Anna, trying to forcibly carry him away, but he kicked and squirmed so hard they finally gave up that tactic. Dr. Brown suggested that since they were going to sedate him anyway for the exam, that it might be a good idea to just do it now. It took Dottie and Hank holding him down, with Anna holding his arm still to be able to get the sedative into him. Hank then picked up my unconscious sentinel and took him to his room. Everyone on the hall was just broken hearted for him, just as I was when I learned about it.

The approved doctor finally got there after another half hour wait, and they performed the frigging test they insisted was necessary. Of course, there were no signs of any kind of abuse like that. I could have told them that…actually I _did_ tell them that, but I guess once an accusation like this was made, they had to do all they could to protect the kid, just in case. If we had been talking about any other case, I'd be glad they were being so careful. It's much harder to accept when it's this close to home.

The doctor gave Jimmy another dose of mild sedative so he'd just sleep through the night. Anna volunteered to stay at the Center and sit up with him if need be, but the night shift staff told her they thought he'd be okay until morning. If they needed extra help, Dottie was close and she volunteered to come back on a moment's notice if they found he needed someone. I'm glad we had such a good support system, and that we had had seven months to show everyone what worked with him and what didn't. I tried to tell myself that he'd be fine. It's all I _could_ do right then.

I had hoped I'd see Jimmy in the jungle that night, but I guess he couldn't get there, being sedated. I was never quite sure how he did it anyway, so I have no idea what affect the sedation had on it, if any. All I know was that I didn't go to the jungle. Of course, it may have been my fault. This wasn't an environment that was conducive to sleep, so I kept waking up before I could dream much, and what dreams I _did_ have were nightmares! So, I may have been interfering with the ability to go to the jungle. I didn't know. I just missed Jimmy!

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Sara, the Director, came down the next morning with a defense lawyer she knew personally that accepted criminal cases. It was hard to believe that I needed such a lawyer! He said the first thing we had to do was to get me out on bail at the bail hearing later in the morning. He was hoping that since I was a low flight risk with no priors at all, that the bail would be low, so I didn't have to stay there one more minute than absolutely necessary. What was more worrying though was that Mr. Ellison had taken out a restraining order in case I _did_ get out on bail. Even freed, I wouldn't be able to see Jimmy until this got straightened out. Kyle, the lawyer, said that that could take anywhere from a month, (which was a _very_ optimistic estimate, and not at all likely), to a year. I had never felt so helpless in all my life. Even with all those years of searching for Jimmy, knowing that he was out there needing my help, even with those last several weeks before I found him when the situation was becoming so desperate…not once had I felt _this_ helpless. At those times I was at least doing all I could to remedy the situation, even if I wasn't having much success at the time. This time I wasn't even sure how I got _into_ this situation; let alone how to get out! I was letting Jimmy down and there wasn't one damned thing I could do about it!

"" "" "" "" "" ""

Time finally came and I was trotted into the court room for my bail hearing. Dottie was there as moral support and Sara was there representing the Center. Of course my lawyer was there as well. We all almost collectively fainted when the judge set bail at $25,000 cash or $50,000 in property. I didn't have anywhere _near_ that kind of money, and the only property I owned was a beat up Corvair…not the kind of property the judge was talking about, but it was all I had. Dottie didn't even blink. She immediately said, "I have a house worth _more_ than $50,000. How do I put that up as bail?"

I was shocked! "Dottie, I can't let you do that!"

"Blair, as I understand it, the only way I'd actually _lose _my house would be if you didn't show up for your court date. Are you thinking of running?"

"Well, no, but…" I looked at Kyle. "Is that true? There's no way she would actually lose her house?"

"Only if you ran. And… if you violated the restraining order it could get a little hairy…depending."

I had no plans at all of running, though I had at least _thought_ of sneaking on campus to talk to Jimmy. It looked like it came down to, 'do I accept a friend's offer and get out of jail, but not be able to see Jimmy?' or 'stay in jail and _still_ not get to see Jimmy.' No real choice, I guess.

I nodded my acceptance of Dottie's offer and the judge explained where she should bring the deed to turn it in as bail. They took me back to jail until she got back with the deed, but then I was at least free. What I should do with my freedom if it didn't let me help Jimmy, I wasn't at all sure.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Kyle was there when they finally let me go, and went over the terms of the restraining order with me. Obviously, I couldn't see Jimmy, but I also wasn't allowed to call him or even talk to him if he called me. I couldn't send him video of me, a tape with my voice on it, or a letter. All of those could be considered contact with him, and could theoretically be used to try to coerce him into saying I didn't do anything to him, or to threaten him, or something. It was all just so screwed up.

By this time it was late afternoon. I had an appointment with my lawyer at 4:30, giving him enough time to go over the 'evidence' that the prosecution had. He had gone against his standard practices and taken my case without knowing the specifics, just on Sara's say-so. It was nice to have friends with connections.

While I was waiting for the appointment, I went home with Dottie, and hung out with her in the main part of the house she had jeopardized just to get me out of jail. She called over to the Center to check on Jimmy for me. He wasn't doing so well. He refused to leave his room. Anytime anyone tried to get him to, he'd start screaming and throwing things. They had brought him breakfast, and he threw it across the room. They tried again with lunch, but just asked him if he wanted it instead of leaving the tray to be thrown. They kept checking from time to time, to see if he was hungry yet, but the doctor said that he had a healthy weight going into this, so a few missed meals shouldn't hurt him in the long run. Fortunately, it didn't sound like he was having any major problems with his senses yet. He was just ticked off and was letting everyone know about it. That was actually better than I had expected by this point, so, even though the news was terrible, I was somewhat reassured.

Finally, it came time to go to the lawyer's appointment. Dottie went with me, and Sara met me there. It was somewhat comforting to have the moral support of two good friends as I pushed open the door labeled "Kyle Williams: Attorney at Law". Even so, I wasn't prepared for the greeting I received.

"You, sit the hell down!" Kyle started immediately, talking to me. Then he said to Sara, "What the _hell_ did you get me into?"

All three of us were wearing matching goldfish expressions. What caused this change? Kyle was so supportive earlier in the day.

"Kyle," Sara found her voice first, "I _told_ you what was going on. Blair's being framed for this. Probably by Chuck Tyler who was just fired from the Center two weeks ago."

"The evidence didn't look like anyone was being framed here, Sara." Kyle was still livid.

"What?" Articulate in stressful situations I obviously _was not_.

"Kyle, just take us through the evidence, okay? I'm sure this is a mistake. I can't imagine anything that would actually prove Blair did anything to hurt Jimmy."

"Fine," Kyle threw several files and a video tape on the table. "I have copies. Let's look at it, shall we?" Then, to me, he said, "Are you sure you want them to stay here for this?"

That ticked me off. He actually had decided I was guilty and had something to hide. "Yes, I want them to stay. There is absolutely nothing in _existence_ that could prove that I did anything to Jimmy, and if _that_ seems to suggest that I did, then it's either completely fabricated, or misleading."

Kyle looked at me, measuring me up. He must have decided I was either innocent, deluded enough to _think_ I was innocent when I wasn't, or just plain stupid to let my supporters see all this evidence. Either way, he calmed down a little, sat down, and opened the file. He started taking things from the top file, one by one, and tossing it on the table.

"We have a photo, taken from cell phone, of Mr. Sandburg dragging a naked child, whom I assumed to be Jimmy, into a room…obviously against the child's will!" I started to say something to explain this, but Kyle shot me a look that said that one word from me right now could easily make him decide _not_ to take my case after all. I was afraid that, in his current mood, he'd not only quit _my_ side, but would probably join the other one. I stayed silent and he continued. "Here we have numerous pictures of Jimmy with scratches and bruises all over his face and chest." He then threw down a folder with several papers in it. "Here, we have an affidavit stating that Blair spent the entire night in Jimmy's room on numerous occasions; that he repeatedly took the boy into the community _by himself_…._without_ the father's permission; that Blair wouldn't allow anyone else to deal with Jimmy, or to be alone with him, and that the boy was, and I quote, "obviously too scared to speak to anyone without Blair around, probably for fear of later reprisals."" Sara started to interrupt, but Kyle continued, throwing down another folder. "_This_ is the avadavat of a psychiatrist, hired by Mr. Ellison. She says that the symptoms described to her sound like those of an abused child. The unwillingness to talk to anyone else, the fear of speaking without checking for permission, the flinching when touched…" He paused, obviously working up to something "And, the most damning of all is the child's own testimony."

"Kyle, Jimmy hasn't spoken to anyone about…"

The lawyer interrupted Sara to continue. "Here" as he slapped down another picture, "we have the child's opinion of Blair! The psychiatrist said that the fact that Jimmy won't draw any other person _but_ Blair, and the fact that Blair's picture obviously has angry and ominous overtones means that Jimmy feels isolated, like Blair is the only person of power in his world, and that Jimmy is scared to death of Blair." It was one of the pictures Jimmy drew just before I got to Cascade. A picture of me with features slightly distorted and lightning bolts through my face. The background had black jagged lines emanating from behind my head. My expression was neutral, but with all the lightning and all the black the expression could easily be interpreted as angry or mean instead. Kyle had one more thing to say, "…and straight from the child himself, in living color…"

He slammed a videotape into the nearby player and we all saw a terrified, shirtless Jimmy shouting "No!" at me and backing away saying "No more," as he barricaded himself behind the large table in the living room area. As I tried to talk to him, he let out with terrified scream and began to pace behind the table. As I approached him, he screamed "Don't touch me! Leave me alone! No more!" and the picture went to black.

Man, no wonder Kyle was so livid. If this was all I knew about the case, I'd think I was guilty too. This stuff could only have come from Chuck, and everything was taken out of context to make me look as guilty as sin.

We all just sat there, stunned. Again, it was Sara that found a voice. "Kyle, this is all taken out of context. This…" she picked up the cell phone photo, "is during one of Jimmy's many 'sensitive periods' and is well documented. We have cameras in all of the calm rooms. I can easily look up this incident and get the video for that event."

"And, what will _that_ video show, Mr. Sandburg?" Kyle still thought I was guilty. How was I going to get out of this, if I couldn't even convince my own lawyer?

"Well, Mr. Williams," always a good idea to be formal and respectful to anyone who, apparently, would like to see me buried _under_ the jail for this. "That tape will show me bringing Jimmy into the calm room…and yes, it will no doubt look like it was against his will. When Jimmy has a sensory spike in his sense of touch, _any_ touch makes him feel like his skin is on fire. That's why he takes off his clothes. That's why he's fighting my touch. As soon as I got him in the calm room I let him go and talked him down the best way I could. By the time Stacy got there with new clothes for him, I had him calm, and was holding him, rocking him to keep him calm. It seems to help, once he has his sense of touch under control, to have physical contact with someone he trusts. And before you ask, the tape will show that my hands are on _completely_ appropriate parts of Jimmy's body. I also dressed him in there, and _that_ will show that I handed him his underwear so he could put them on himself. He put on his own t-shirt, and then held on to me while he put on his slacks. I helped him with the button on the fly because he was still a little shaky and was getting frustrated with it. Depending on the angle of the camera in the room, it should show that my hands only touched the button and the very top of this waist band and nothing else!"

"If this was just a 'sensory spike' and he's done this before, why did you feel the need to take him into a room by yourself while he was naked?"

"I was trying to protect his privacy a little. While he's in a sensory spike, he doesn't care who sees him naked. Actually, he doesn't much care any other time either. I wouldn't say Jimmy was an exhibitionist per se, but probably just this side of it. And _that_ _isn't_ a trait of abused children…especially sexually abused kids. They are usually very cautious about showing their bodies, and are very private. Jimmy couldn't care less. But I still didn't want him on display like that, so I took him out of the hall. And while I have the floor, it's not true that he won't speak to anyone else. It started out that he was more comfortable talking to me or to others only if I was there, but even that was an improvement from not speaking at all. But over the last seven months or so, he's started speaking to more and more people, whether or not I'm there. And as far as flinching from touches…no _way_. Jimmy isn't really into casual touches, but he _needs_ touch to ground himself in a sensory spike, and not just mine. Anna and Dottie can both calm him using touch…always could to some degree. I've even seen him initiate touch with other people. He holds Anna's hand sometimes, especially when we're out in the community, and he gives Dottie hugs every morning, and before she leaves each day. I've even seen him rough-housing with Hank one time, just for a minute or two. So, he's not opposed to all touches. He flinched from _Chuck's_ touches, but then most of the kids did!"

"Are you finished?" Kyle didn't seem quite as ticked off about my outburst as his words implied.

"Not really. I can refute all of that stuff." I waved my hands toward the junk on the table, and he nodded his permission to continue. "The picture was drawn before I even got here, and it was during a difficult period of time. That's a really long story and I'll explain it all later. The tape has been chopped to bits…"

"_I_ took that video. I was there for the whole scene. Jimmy and his friend were playing blocks. Jimmy had a sensory spike and Blair talked him down from it using those linked blocks you saw in the video. Both the beginning and the end of that tape would show that there was no abuse involved. Jimmy took his _own_ shirt off and scratched _himself_! Some of the pictures you have of Jimmy with scratches are from this time…probably stills from the tape." Once Dottie got started, it was a little hard to get her to stop.

Kyle was starting to see our side of it, though. He was a good bit calmer. "What about the fact that Blair slept in Jimmy's room?"

"In a recliner…with the door open." Dottie amended. "The first night, everyone was so shocked by the whole story of Blair's arrival (which I _will_ tell you in a little while, in _great_ detail) that they kept looking in the room every 5 minutes. I was there all night and I checked in on them too. On other occasions that Blair spent the night, staff members were up and down the hall all night, and looked in to check on Jimmy and Blair. Blair usually only stayed when Jimmy was having a bad night, so the staff was always concerned enough to check."

Sara took over. "And we _did_ have the father's permission for the field trips. In the beginning we would send permission forms in the mail for each upcoming field trip. He almost never sent them back so poor Jimmy never got to go anywhere. Finally, one time, when I called to check on whether or not he would be returning the latest one, he told us to stop bothering him with them. He had a blanket permission slip drawn up and notarized, saying that Jimmy could go on any outing that the Center felt might be beneficial to him, and that he could be with any personnel we deemed fit to care for him."

Kyle was coming around! "You have this on file?"

"Of course."

"Everything the three of you have told me is documented and you can produce that tape in its entirety?"

"Yes." Sara said formally, and Dottie just nodded, as did I.

"If I interview staff, they will bear out what you said here?"

"Yes, Kyle. Have I ever lied to you?" Sara resorted to drawing on her personal friendship.

"No, Sara, you haven't," Kyle had to admit.

"And I'm not lying now. Blair is being framed by an ex-employee who is arguably the _worse_ mistake the Center's personnel office has ever made."

"And a total waste of skin." Dottie added. I thought it would be prudent to keep my opinions about Chuck to myself at this point.

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Found 12

It took Kyle a couple of days to round up most of the evidence we mentioned, and he took it all to the DA. He came back from his meeting very excited.

"Blair," he said enthusiastically, "The DA feels that with the amount of evidence we have to refute _their _'evidence', there is a good chance they wouldn't have enough to convict. He's willing to drop the charges."

Anna, Dottie and Sara all thought that was great, but I wasn't so sure. "Will Mr. Ellison drop the restraining order?"

Everyone stopped celebrating. "Well, not necessarily," Kyle started, "probably _not_ actually."

"Will I be given my job back?" Sara looked dubious. If it was just her decision, she'd reinstate me in a minute, but she had to answer to the board of directors, and they were already pressuring her to cut all ties with me, let alone giving me back my job. Even if they could be convinced to take a chance on me again, I wouldn't be able to work with Jimmy if the restraining order was still in place. In fact, being on the property at all, with that restraining order still in effect might be tricky.

"Is the public going to forget this charge? Will I ever be able to work with children again? Is anyone really going to believe I'm innocent? Or will they just think I got away with this heinous act simply because I was careful and didn't leave enough evidence to actually be _convicted?"_

Everyone was quiet now. "It's not enough to have the charges dropped, Kyle! We _need_ to go to court. I need to have a chance to _show_ that the so-called evidence they have is trumped up by a man who thinks I got him fired and has a bone to pick. I need to _show_ everyone that _I didn't do this_! I need to show them how much Jimmy _needs_ me, how much better he has done with me there. I need Mr. Ellison to see this and to drop that damned restraining order!"

"Blair," Kyle started, unsure of himself, "that's dangerous. We have enough evidence to refute _their_ 'evidence'. We probably even have enough to show how much better Jimmy is doing since you've been there. But the jury is made up of human beings. Emotions get really high in cases where a child has allegedly been harmed. That _shouldn't_ be a factor in their decision, but it quite possibly _will_ be. Mr. Ellison is a much respected man. The only thing anyone knows about you is what he says, or what they've heard. Our case is strong enough to make the DA offer to drop the charges. I'm not sure it is strong enough for us to actually win it if it came to court. You wouldn't be the first innocent man that went to jail."

The three females in the room just waited for me to answer, silently letting me know that they would support whatever decision I made. Did I really have a choice? Dropping the charges would accomplish _nothing_ except to keep me out of jail. It wouldn't help Jimmy, and that's what the last eight years of my life had been all about. How could I just abandon him now?

"We _need_ this to go to court, Kyle."

"Okay. I think you're making a mistake, but I admire the reason you're making it."

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Over the next several weeks, Kyle interviewed everyone on 3-B and most of the rest of the third floor staff, as well as quite a few miscellaneous personnel; just to be sure he had all of his bases covered. He got Sara to give him copies of all the documents we had mentioned and anything else he could think of. He got an opposing affidavit from _our_ psychologist, who had known Jimmy since he was four, saying that Jimmy most certainly did _not_ exhibit symptoms of an abused child. She documented the remarkable change she had seen in Jimmy in the last seven months. On her recommendation, Kyle reviewed and copied all the tapes documenting Jimmy's progress over the years, including footage of him drawing _numerous _beautiful pictures of me dating back eight years. He also watched the tapes that showed what he was like in the weeks just before I got here, which clearly showed him drawing those disturbing pictures of me, _before _I ever got here. I had no idea how we were going to explain all of _that_ to a jury. Somehow I wasn't so sure they were going to be open to the concept of Jimmy being a Sentinel.

Meanwhile, we learned that Mr. Ellison was suing the Center as well as pressing charges against me. He sited neglect and conspiracy to cover up the facts, and specifically mentioned that I was hired without a background check. Sara made sure that Kyle knew that, technically, they didn't hire me until the day after I was hurriedly rushed to the hall that first night. I was all but hired, and the lady in personnel had said that, but all I had heard was "hired" as I was whisked through the hall, knowing that criminal checks would come back clean. Sara sited that I had quickly signed in as a visitor and the lady in personnel had slapped a visitor's pass on me as we headed toward the elevator before she sent me to the third floor. The next morning, they had hurried through a criminal background check, specifically looking for any charges of pedophilia, etc. Only after that came back clean did they _officially_ hire me. Until then, I wasn't really alone with Jimmy at all, because technically I had just been visiting. They then performed a more thorough background check, finding two parking tickets in two different states which had, of course, been paid. They tracked down my former employers and got references, etc. All this was technically _after_ I started working with Jimmy, but the actual _criminal_ check was done beforehand, so Kyle thought the Center was okay there. Of course the Center's own lawyer was handling the lawsuit, but Kyle said it affected our own case because any testimony of Center personnel could be seen as an attempt by the Center to prove me innocent just so that they could win their own case, and therefore may be perceived as being biased. Dottie said that hell, yes she was biased! But it had nothing to do with a lawsuit on the center. Kyle said he wasn't sure admissions like that would really help our case.

Mr. Ellison was certainly busy through all of this. Not only was he suing the Center, and gearing up for the trial with me, who knew when, but he managed to work my name into each of his public appearances along the campaign trail. Kyle said the man was smart. While what he said was pretty inflammatory, he never actually said anything that _openly _slandered me, but man, it came close, and the public certainly was able to read between the lines. At every campaign stop, he spoke variations on the theme. "I'll try to keep all of my appearance dates, but there is always this Sexual Abuse trial to convict Blair Sandburg for molesting my innocent baby that could come up at any time. Even though I can't really contribute much as a witness, I need to be there. I think it's a duty of all of us to get pedophiles off the streets and keep our children safe."

Dottie thought that surely that was slander, but Kyle said that technically, the objective of _any_ case was to convict, as supposedly all defendants are innocent until proven guilty. It's just that if the prosecution doesn't do a good enough job, then the conviction doesn't happen. The "molestation of Mr. Ellison's baby" _was _the charge (albeit stated in overly sensational terminology) that the trial was addressing. And, it certainly _was_ in all children's best interest to get pedophiles off the street. He never actually said I _was_ one. Kyle was filing every statement away though so that as soon as I was proven innocent we could sue Mr. Ellison personally for defamation of character.

The statements made by the popular gubernatorial candidate might not have been openly slanderous, but the public was getting the message. I could hardly go anywhere without at least getting hateful looks or not-quite-whispered remarks like "they shouldn't let those kinds of people loose in the world" or "I can't believe they don't require him to have a chaperone! There are _kids _around!"

_Somehow_ information got _leaked_ to the press, so people knew there was a picture of me manhandling a naked child, and a video of that child trying to resist. Of course the newspapers and TV news shows all made a big deal of not being able to _show_ any of that since it was evidence in an ongoing case. But, they said that it was public knowledge that the evidence existed, so they weren't violating my right to an unbiased trial by talking about it. Of course, that wasn't true. Any jury we tried to pick now was already _very_ biased, but Kyle said the best we could do was request a change of venue, but that would probably end up adding months to the already lengthy wait for a trial. So, there was nothing we could really do about all this, but sit and wait, and hope it didn't get even uglier.

So much for hope.

It wasn't hard for people who wanted to, to find out where I was living. Dorothy's house was trashed. Filthy words were painted all over the side of the house, and the porch. Paint was dumped on _both_ our cars, and we were repeatedly awakened to sounds of breaking glass as rocks with threatening notes attached, were flung through the windows. I offered to pay for new glass out of what little savings I had, but Dottie said to just leave it until things settled down. Otherwise, we would just be providing fresh targets. So, we just bought more plywood as needed and boarded up the broken windows. Man, I didn't know _how_ I was going to repay that sweet lady…and I don't just mean financially.

The situation wasn't much better at the Center. Pickets constantly stood just outside of the property line and chanted unkind things. Every time the staff tried to bring the kids out to play, the pickets got louder. Several of the verbal children picked up some pretty colorful language to repeat. Everyone tried to just ignore them, and only kept inside those children bothered by all the noise. Jimmy still wouldn't come out of his room most of the time, let alone outside, so there were no problems with sensory spikes caused by it, but Sara finally had to tell the staff to keep _all_ the children indoors at all times after the whole thing intensified to dangerous levels.

On what would be the last day the kids were on the playground, several of the picketers managed to sneak up through the forested side of the property and actually laid hands on one of the kids. He was sitting by himself but not really that far away from the nearest adult. The two "do-gooders" grabbed the kid, thinking he was Jimmy, and were going to "liberate him from the horrible institution that allowed him to be hurt in such a terrible way." I guess from the back the kid _did_ look a _little_ like the picture of Jimmy they were showing on TV, but he wasn't even on the same hall, and couldn't understand what was going on. He was another child to whom touches were most unwelcome, as were many of the children here, and he had a horrible melt-down. At least the self-proclaimed liberators were thrown in jail, but Sara didn't want to take any more chances.

One 'good' thing did come out of the so-called 'rescue-attempt'. The boy's parents started a petition, which most of the other parents signed, to have the public barred from the premises. That didn't do much for any protestors just outside the property line, but at least no one dared to come onto the property again, not that the kids were accessible any longer anyway. The group of parents also approached Mr. Ellison and demanded that he either remove his son from the facility so that _their_ children would be safe, or that he publicly announce that the protestors should leave the premises, even the outskirts of the Center's property. He finally did when the parents' group threatened to take the whole situation to the TV news station. They promised that the spin they would put on all the ruckus at the Center lately, would _not _be good for the gubernatorial candidate's campaign. The crowds were finally gone, but Sara still didn't let the kids go out for a couple of weeks afterward.

At various points so far in this whole mess, Mr. Ellison had been asked some hard questions by the press, but had beautifully noble, though patently false, answers for each one.

"Why wasn't it common knowledge that you had an older son? You only ever mention young Steven who goes to a private boarding school in the East."

"My eldest son is quite unable to understand what is going on around him. I simply wanted to protect his privacy and keep him safe from potential kidnappers or other people who would attempt to use my deep bond with my son against me. He is also such a fragile child; he didn't need the extra attention of the media."

"Why is he in a state-run institution when, with all your money, you could easily afford a better, private home for kids like that."

"The private homes already were very well financed and didn't really need my money. I thought that the state-run school would better benefit from my monthly contributions. I had done extensive research, of course, and was assured that it was a good facility with caring, attentive staff."

"Why are you allowing him to stay in a place where he was hurt so badly?"

"The perpetrator of these horrible crimes against my defenseless child is now not allowed anywhere on the premises. I still believe the Center is the best place for the boy. He is used to the staff there, and to the routine. As an autistic child, routine and familiar surroundings are very important to him. While I _am_ suing the Center for negligence with regard to the hiring of and subsequent inadequate supervision of Blair Sandburg, I do _not_ think that the staff in general is negligent. I trust the remaining staff to care for my son."

"How is it that these things have been going on for seven months and you didn't know about it?"

"My son is uncommunicative and could not tell me about any of this on any of the occasions that I saw him during that time."

Dottie and Anna were both spitting nails. They suggested to Kyle that we go on our own smear campaign and let the media know that the bastard they loved so much dumped his kid here eight years ago, and hadn't seen him since; that his "monthly" contributions were the bare minimum that the facility asked for in order to subsidize state funding; that he had, on more than one occasion, demanded that the Center "stop bothering" him about "that kid". Sara can _prove_ all of that! Kyle said, right now it would just look like the Center was fabricating lies to discredit Mr. Ellison in order to save themselves from the lawsuit. He _did_ file away all of that proof, along with everything Mr. Ellison said on the subject to be used at a later date, provided I was proven innocent.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Things had already gotten pretty bad for Jimmy. He started having sensory spikes, and while, at first, Anna or Dottie had been able to talk him through them using the blocks, the episodes had gotten so bad that he couldn't, or at least didn't focus on trying to manage them, and he started just throwing the blocks. Anna and Dottie, with Sara's permission, and the cooperation of the other staff, had rearranged their schedule so that one or the other of them was always there, since, next to me, Jimmy responded best to them. It was keeping him together somewhat, but he really needed my help.

One sensory spike got so bad that Anna called me at Dottie's house.

"Blair, you _have_ to talk to him. His sense of touch has gone off the scale. The poor kid is already naked, and scratched to pieces. He's sitting on the floor in his room, banging his head against the wall. Blair, his head has already started to bleed; he's banging it so hard. We can't get him to calm down, and the doctor can't get anywhere near him to be able to sedate him."

"Blair," Dottie started, "If you talk to him, you're violating the restraining order. I'm not sure if you could actually do jail time for that, or not."

What should I do? I _couldn't_ just leave Jimmy like this, but Kyle had said that it was unclear as to whether Dottie could lose her house if I violated the restraining order. "Dottie? What do I do? I don't want you to lose your…"

"Don't you dare make that poor boy suffer through this if you're only worried about my house. If you're willing to take the risk, so am I. I'm behind you all the way, Blair, you know that."

"Take your cell phone to his room and put me on speaker."

"Thank you, Blair." Anna sounded genuinely relieved, "I know the risk you're taking here. Hank is going to videotape the whole thing. Maybe that will help if you get into trouble with that whole restraining order thing."

It took a half an hour, but I finally talked him down, and he crawled into bed. The doctor had him take a mild sedative and he slept the rest of the night. After he was asleep, Doctor Brown cleaned his head wound and decided it didn't need stitches…this time. What would we do if more of his spikes got this bad? Man, we _had _to get this sorted out, and soon!

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Special Thanks to Cassandra30 and Duchess67 whose comments and suggestions have been included in this or upcoming parts. Thanks to everyone who has commented along the way. Your feedback really makes my day.

Found 13

Anna had started staying in the guest room at Dottie's house on evenings that she worked, or when she had to work the next day. She was closer to the Center that way, so it bought her a little time. Both she and Dottie were working my shift now, 7AM to 9PM. Anna had quickly found out that that shift didn't work well, while living a half an hour away. Two and a half miles was a much better distance to travel.

So Anna was there with me when I got the frantic call from Dottie at the Center. Anna or Stacey usually worked with Lydia, a young girl who usually needed one on one attention, but both were off that day, and the child was having a difficult time. Tara was working with another hard to handle child. Barbara, Chuck's replacement, and Jean, the hopefully temporary replacement for me were both too new to handle Lydia well, and the girl didn't respond well to men. So, since Jimmy wouldn't come out of his room anyway, Dottie had allowed Hank to stay on the hall with the little sentinel, while she went to help with Lydia. Dottie got a call from Hank just after lunch, and immediately called me. Jimmy was missing.

Apparently, he waited until Hank was in the office, just out of eyeshot of Jimmy's room, and then escaped off the hall. Everyone was looking all over the Center, but so far hadn't found him. Sara was going through security footage, but hadn't found him on any of the hall or calm room cameras yet. She was currently looking through the footage of outdoor cameras. Dottie was sure he was trying to get to me.

As we were talking, Sara notified her that she found him on an outside camera. He had left more than a half hour previous and was, indeed, heading toward the road. He knew where I lived in relation to the Center from all the times we had gone out into the community. Often we'd eat lunch here with Dottie, and then go to the Center from here. The kid was _really_ smart, and would have easily been able to find his way here, provided he didn't have any sensory spikes on the way.

Anna left immediately, trying to backtrack him to the Center, and several volunteers from the Center were trying to trace his steps from there to here along a couple of different possible routes. Hopefully, one of them would find him before he found too much trouble. Dottie told me to stay here, in case he got this far, hoping against hope that he wouldn't because technically, that would violate the restraining order. That damned thing was getting _really_ annoying.

The search went on for another hour. Jimmy had been officially missing for an hour and a half when I finally heard the frantic cry from beyond the door.

"CHIEF!!!" Then he started to pound on the door. "Let me in Chief! I need you Chief, PLEASE!"

To hell with the restraining order. I opened the door and caught him as an exhausted, frustrated sentinel fell into my arms. I got him to walk with me as far as the phone and called Dottie while I held him. He shook and cried, and refused to leave my arms. I found out much later, after he had calmed down, that he had had several minor spikes on the way. Sunlight glinting on passing cars, horns from various vehicles along the way, smells from various bakeries and delis. It had taken considerable effort each time for him to bring the level down from a 7 or 8 to something more manageable. I was somewhat surprised that he hadn't turned touch and smell completely off. He had everything at 3 though. It took quite some time to calm him down, and get him to turn everything to a normal level.

By then, Anna had gotten back. She left him with me as long as she dared, but we really needed to get him back, and he really wasn't supposed to be with me at all, according to that damnable restraining order. As I applied every curse I knew to William Ellison and Chuck Tyler, I tried to gear myself up for the inevitable battle of getting Jimmy to go back to the Center.

When he finally got the idea that I wasn't going to allow him to stay, he started throwing anything in sight, ripping anything he could get his hands on, and generally trashing Dottie's house from the inside. I added each broken piece of glassware, each torn pillow, and ripped section of wallpaper to the ever growing mental list of things I owed Dottie. I never realized how much damage one ticked off twelve year old could do when he really put his mind to it. When the tantrum turned into a sensory spike and he started hurting himself, I stepped in and held him, helping him to turn down his various spiked senses, and then simply holding him until he collapsed against me with exhaustion. We finally got him into Anna's car, and he fell asleep in the passenger seat on the way back. Letting that car pull away without me in it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Jimmy and I weren't the only ones affected by this whole mess. Obviously, Dottie, and Anna, by virtue of staying in the same house, were pulled into it too. Other staff members were being asked questions by lawyers and journalists, and just generally being harassed. But, there were people completely distraught over this whole thing that no one had thought would be at first.

All of the kids on the hall were feeling the stress, and the frequency of tantrums and melt downs had gone way up. But the child most affected by what was going on with Jimmy, was his best friend, Ryan.

Ryan, who had started to come out of his shell just before this whole thing blew up, had stopped talking completely. He didn't even use the words he had always had, even before Jimmy started encouraging him to speak. He didn't play with blocks anymore. He didn't draw or paint, as Jimmy had been teaching him to. He barely ate. He would follow the group wherever they went if told he had to, but didn't participate in anything, and if left to his own devices, would just sit in the doorway to Jimmy's room, watching his distressed friend.

Several times, when Jimmy was sitting in the corner, either zoned, or just staring, Ryan would come in and sit beside him. Jimmy didn't say anything to him, and Ryan didn't even try to talk. He just sat there, whether lending or receiving comfort, no one really knew. But Jimmy didn't seem to mind, and it was apparently where Ryan preferred to be, so the staff allowed him to be there as much as possible.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Our court date was finally coming into view, having been placed at nine weeks from my arrest. Not as good as I was hoping, but no where nearthe year that I feared, so I had thought when I first heard the date, that nine weeks was doable. It was turning out to be the longest nine weeks of my life…and of Jimmy's. At just two weeks away now, the press started hounding me and anyone I knew. It got so bad that I couldn't go out of the house. Kyle had asked for police cruisers to keep an eye on the place because of the vandals, and every now and again, they would actually ask the reporters to leave, too, but usually, it was just a media circus on the front lawn. Thank God that there actually hadn't been any reporters there several weeks back when Jimmy had come here. I can't imagine what that would have done to him.

Finally, I got sick of it, and against Kyle's instructions, just went out front and talked to the press. I got no less than six mics shoved in my face as soon as I opened the door, as I knew I would. I asked them to speak one at a time and told them that way, I'd be able to hear the questions, and would be happy to answer.

I fielded every question they put to me. Of _course_ I hadn't hurt Jimmy, nor would I ever. Yes, I knew where the 'evidence' had come from, and told them the whole story about Chuck. I told them what the _entire_ video would show, what was going on in the picture of me with the naked child, and a little about Jimmy in general. Several seemed almost convinced; others just seemed to be out for blood. I took all the insults; by now, I was getting quite good at that. I told them about the vandalism to the house of an innocent lady who had done nothing to deserve it but to try to be a good friend to someone she knew had been wrongfully accused. Finally, when asked "How do you feel about the upcoming trial?" I answered, "Elated! I _welcome_ the chance to prove in a court of law that I didn't do _anything _to hurt that little boy. That not only would I never _hurt_ him, but that he was doing a hundred percent _better_ since I came to work with him. I am looking forward to being able to tell my side of what has become a smear campaign and a witch hunt. And I especially relish the opportunity to show Mr. Ellison the _real _'evidence'…whole and uncut. Chuck Tyler presented a skewed view to the man, for whatever personal reasons, but in so doing has actually done more harm to Mr. Ellison's little boy than I ever could have."

As expected, my interview was broadcast on every news station that night… some with a positive spin, some with as negative a spin as possible with what was actually said, some just showed the tape with little or no comment. Kyle was fit to be tied that I didn't follow his instructions, and made his "if you don't listen to me, I can't properly defend you" noises, but all in all, I think the interview _helped_ our case more than it hurt. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the evidence. Maybe I shouldn't have accused Chuck of anything before we had the opportunity to prove it. Maybe I did take a little of the shock value away by presenting the description of our 'secret weapon' before the trial. But, damn it, I had taken enough. Dottie had suffered enough. This was one thing I _could_ do, and whether or not Kyle liked it, I was glad I did it.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Since the day after this whole thing had begun, Jimmy and I had been meeting sporadically in the jungle. On nights that he was sedated (which turned out to be more and more as we moved toward the court date), he couldn't make it there. It turned out that he couldn't actually get there in his sleep, which was the only way that I _could_. He had to go there on purpose or during a zone while he was awake. Some nights, he'd wake up in the middle and contact me then. He couldn't contact me in the day time when he went there because I wasn't asleep, though that didn't keep him from trying. We were both getting frustrated at the lack of efficiency in what I had _thought_ would be our ace in the hole. But, we were_ occasionally_ able to meet in the jungle, and that was better than nothing.

Apparently, Jimmy was even more frustrated with the whole hit and miss status of his only communication option, than I had thought. One evening, a little more than a week before the trial, he was able to contact me, and we had a nice talk. I could hold him there, and rock him, and assure him that everything would be okay. He didn't necessarily have a whole lot to say beyond the fact that he wanted me to come back. He seemed to understand what was going on, but not exactly why. But then, I wasn't sure exactly _why_ either. Anyway, I had thought the visit was productive and had done both of us some good. That is, until I got the frantic call from Anna the next morning.

She had gone in at 7:00 to wake him up, and was having a hard time rousing him. She kept trying periodically for the better part of an hour, thinking maybe I had gone back to sleep after she had left, and he was talking to me in the jungle. She knew I usually got up with her or Dottie, whichever was working that day, and just stayed up, and as it passed 8:30, she knew something was wrong. She called, just to make sure I was awake, and of course I was. I _had _been the whole time, though, and Jimmy wasn't waking up. I wasn't _absolutely_ sure he was still in the jungle, but it was a pretty good bet. I tried to get back to sleep so I could talk to him, but I wasn't at all sleepy, and as my worry about Jimmy mounted, all chances of getting to sleep any time soon completely vanished. Anna kept me posted, but there was no change throughout the day. By lunch time, five hours after Anna's first unsuccessful attempt to wake Jimmy, I decided to take Dottie's suggestion of taking sleeping pills. I was pretty sure that the sedative wouldn't affect _my_ ability to get to the jungle, since, as far as I could tell, it wasn't actually anything _I_ did that got me there. I simply responded to Jimmy when he was there.

I was wrong. Either Jimmy wasn't actually in the jungle, or the sedative _did_ affect my ability to get there even if he was, because I didn't go to the jungle. I stayed asleep for 4 hours and didn't remember dreaming at _all_. Maybe that was the problem. I knew that my visits to the jungle weren't actually dreams, but they took place when I was in a dream state, so maybe the sedative did something to prevent me from getting to the proper state. Whatever the reason, I wasted 4 hours. Four more hours that Jimmy lay in a zone in his bedroom 2 ½ miles away. He had officially passed his own record for his longest zone. Everyone was getting worried. The doctor had long since set up an IV, as dehydration was the most immediate concern.. I was so frustrated. I knew from experience, that all I'd need to do to wake him up was to take his hand and tell him to come back, but here I sat, useless. Less than 10 minutes away and I couldn't help.

I stayed awake and paced for the next four hours. By 8:00, I decided to try again to get to sleep. I didn't actually _succeed_ until after 10:00. Jimmy had been in a zone for nearly 24 hours, counting from the approximate time that he called me to the jungle the night before. When I finally got to the jungle, and saw Jimmy sitting there, with a gigantic grin, waiting for me to fall asleep again, I didn't know whether to hug him, or throttle him. It was a close call, but I decided on the former. Jimmy, of course, didn't have any idea of the concern he had caused. He was feeling fine, there in the jungle. He never got hungry there or had to go to the bathroom, and at twelve, he hadn't thought about what might be happening to his physical body. I tried to get him to leave the jungle right away to let everyone know he was okay, but he was afraid I'd wake up too, and we wouldn't be able to meet again for a long while. There was nothing _I _could do to let anyone know what was going on without waking up, and I was reluctant to leave Jimmy now that I had found him. They'd just have to wait a little while longer.

I had a long talk with Jimmy, and explained why this was so dangerous, and after a _long_ debate, finally extracted a promise that he would never stay in the jungle this long again. Finally, I convinced him that the kindest thing to do would be for him to go back to the Center and let everyone know he was okay. I explained that everyone had been _so_ worried about him all day and that we shouldn't keep them waiting any longer. So, he finally, reluctantly, left.

I woke up almost immediately to find Dottie sitting by my bedside, waiting for any news. She had been on the phone with Anna pretty much the whole time, and was trying to see if she could tell if I had actually gone to the jungle so that she could pass that information along. All she had been able to tell was that I was apparently dreaming. All any of them could do was _hope_ that I had been spending that time with Jimmy.

Anna's squeal was audible through the phone, and I knew the moment that Jimmy woke up. The first thing he did was ask for mashed potatoes. From somewhere, there soon appeared a large helping of instant mashed potatoes and a bottle of ketchup. Which of the staff managed to make Jimmy's favorite meal so quickly, Anna never discovered. Stacey and Hank were the only dayshift staff still there, beside Anna, but it could easily have been one of the nightshift staff as well. _Everyone_ at the Center had long since fallen in love with Jimmy.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Found 14:

Finally the court date arrived. The place was packed with reporters and general public as well as supporters for our side. Sara and Dottie were sitting immediately behind me. Anna had to work, but every staff member not working that day was there in court, showing their support. There were so many that some had to sit on the side behind Ellison. Everyone from the Center had been desperately trying to avoid that side, but that only made it look like the press and the general public was on _his_ side, since that's the only place _they _could sit. Truthfully, most of the press _were_ on his side, but more and more were coming around to my camp. _ Somehow, _a copy of the entire tape showing the touch spike had been leaked out and put on the internet. Sara and Kyle had honestly disavowed any knowledge of how that had happened. Anna and Dottie were staying conspicuously silent on the subject. I just decided that I didn't really want to know, and stopped asking questions.

Also on the internet were numerous blog and live journal entries about the whole thing, stating facts that could only have come from staff members. There were videos of our psychologist being interviewed by Kyle, telling him exactly how Jimmy had been before I got there, and how he was with me there. Kyle admitted to making the video so that he could use it in case Dr. Lowe wasn't able to be there to testify in person, but he said he didn't release it. I have yet to figure that one out, and again, I'm not sure I want to know.

Videos of Jimmy and Ryan playing with blocks and laughing, along with written commentary within the tape about how the boys had been before I came was being shown on U-Tube. A letter and a copy of the block videos had been sent to Ryan's parents and the Jacobs were both there in the courtroom. Before the trial started, they approached me and personally told me how grateful they were for any part I may have had in the drastic improvement they had seen in their son in those scenes. They had shown the video to all of their friends and family, having previously had very little in the way of 'home video' footage of their son to share. They had been amazed when they saw him joking with Jimmy. They were parents who had tried to stay involved, but didn't actually visit that often. As soon as they had received the video, they had rushed right over to visit Ryan. They were crushed to see him sitting silently in Jimmy's room, refusing to come out, even to see them.

The trial began and the prosecution presented what the DA now knew to be incomplete video footage. Reportedly, the DA had desperately tried to convince Mr. Ellison to turn the case into a civil suit instead, citing that he wasn't at all sure there was enough evidence to convict. Mr. Ellison had threatened to publicly claim that the DA himself was obstructing justice, as well as aiding and abetting a criminal. Considering that it was an election year, and the current DA would really like to _continue_ being DA, he had capitulated. Losing a trial would do him much less damage than being seen as someone who would 'knowingly' let a child molester walk just because he didn't want to chance losing a case. So, they trotted out their best stuff, all of which Kyle easily refuted. They put Chuck on the stand; he perjured himself, saying that he had nothing to do with getting the 'evidence' to Mr. Ellison. William himself followed suit and lied about how frequently he visited Jimmy, and how involved he had been in his life for the last eight years.

Avoiding the issues of perjury, Kyle rebutted everything else the opposition said, until they got to the fact that I had violated the restraining order on at least two occasions. Actually, this wasn't nearly as damaging as I had feared. It gave us an opportunity to show the video Hank had made during my phone conversation with Jimmy.

The video opened with Jimmy naked and clawed to pieces, sitting on the floor in his room, banging his head against the wall. Hank had taken great care to show Jimmy only from the chest up, but since his knees were in the picture too, it was obvious that he was naked. Kyle stopped the video right away to note that this was another example of a time where Jimmy undressed _himself_ due to an overactive sense of touch.

Then he continued the tape. My voice could be heard coming from the phone, "Hey Buddy. Jimmy, it's me, Chief. Can you hear me big guy?"

Jimmy looked up, confused. "Chief?" He looked around, and when he couldn't see me, he started to get even more agitated. "Chief? Where are you?"

"Hey buddy. I can't be there right now, remember? I'm on the phone. See, Anna has the phone. That's where I am big guy."

"Chief! Help me!"

He looked at the phone, and consequently at the camera with such an expression of longing that Kyle paused the tape again. He commented that this didn't look like the face of a child who was frightened of me. The prosecuting attorney objected that Kyle was drawing conclusions, not just showing a video. It was sustained, but the jury had already heard the comment and had drawn their own conclusions. Kyle restarted the tape.

"Hey big guy, how many blocks?" We had already explained the block program earlier, when we had shown the entire touch spike that Chuck had taken parts of as his so-called evidence.

"All Chief. All the blocks. Blocks don't work. They don't work anymore Chief."

"It's harder, buddy, but they still work. Let try, okay? We'll try together."

"Okay, Chief. Together."

"Where _are_ your blocks, buddy. Who has them? Anna?"

Jimmy nodded, but then started banging his head again. Anna told me what he was doing.

"Hey buddy, you need to stop doing that, okay? No head-banging. Slap the floor instead. Remember we've done that before? No head-banging big guy."

Jimmy started slapping the floor, but was still rocking and obviously still very distressed. "Too many _blocks_ Chief!"

"I know, buddy. Okay, Anna is going to take off a block. Do you see her?"

He looked at Anna, but started to shake his head. "No, Chief. It's not gone. Still at ten!" Anna put the block back on.

"Okay, let's try again. Think real hard big guy. We're taking off block ten. See it coming off. Take it off in your head. Turn the touch sense down, buddy."

"No, it's still there!"

We tried seven distinct times to take off that stupid tenth block, but we finally got it. It only took four tries for the ninth on, and three for the eighth. After that, they came off pretty quickly.

"There you go buddy. Good work!"

Jimmy looked at the camera with a look of absolute adoration "Thanks, Chief!" Kyle stopped the video. The opposing lawyer got ready to object if Kyle so much as opened his mouth to make a commentary, but it wasn't necessary. Every single juror was staring intently at that little face. Even Mr. Ellison seemed somewhat moved by it. It obviously wasn't the face of a child that was scared of me. You can't prompt that kind of emotion in a child. You can't scare it into him, or threaten him if he doesn't show it. It was pure, innocent, raw emotion from a child that obviously loved me as much as I loved him, and who was incredibly grateful for the help. The jury saw that.

Kyle started the video again. "Thanks Blair," Anna whispered into the phone.

"Better now, buddy?" I hadn't been able to see him at the time.

"Good now, Chief. Can I take off more blocks? Scratches hurt."

"Yeah, I bet they do, buddy. Yeah, go ahead and take off two more, so you can get to sleep, okay? Can you get up and crawl in bed?"

He did just that, and Hank swung the camera away until Jimmy was standing, then zoomed in on his face. Anna took his brushed flannel pajamas over to him and asked if he thought he could tolerate them now. He nodded, and began to put them on. Hank kept the camera at head level, so when Jimmy kept bending down, he disappeared out of the frame. But he eventually finished dressing, crawled into bed, and spoke to me again.

"Still there Chief?"

"Sure thing buddy."

"Why can't you be here? I need you _here_!"

"I'm working on that buddy. Remember I told you in the jungle that I have to talk to a judge first and see if he thinks I can be with you again."

"Because the policeman took you away?"

"He was doing his job, big guy. Remember, we talked about that."

"I don't think I want to be a policeman anymore. Maybe an Indian. No Indians would take my Chief away."

I chuckled on the phone. "Probably not, big guy, but the policeman thought he had to do that to keep you safe. That's what policeman do, buddy, try to keep people safe."

"But, I'm _not_ Chief. Not with you gone. The noises go to ten. The lights go to ten. The touch stuff goes to ten. I can't wear clothes. They all go to ten. I scratch to get the fire off, then the scratches go to ten. I'm not safe from all the blocks with you gone, Chief!"

"Aw, buddy." Everyone in the courtroom could hear the anguish in my voice. "I'm working on it just as hard as I can, Jim. I'll be back as soon as they let me."

Jimmy erupted, angry again. "That judge is _mean_ Chief! He needs to tell you _right now_ that you can come back. Why is he making me _wait _so long!?"

"We talked about that too, remember? Judges are _very_ busy. A _lot_ of people have to ask him things. He's going to give us our turn just as soon as he can."

I glanced at the judge at that point, and caught a little grin. I guess he approved of how I explained that. I hadn't realized or cared that night that the judge might actually _see_ this, so I'm glad I didn't say anything negative, but I had been really careful throughout this whole thing to stay as positive as possible with Jimmy. Anna had said that I would be justified to tell Jimmy that this was Chuck's doing, because he was a vindictive asshole, though she _did_ say I shouldn't use that word with Jimmy. She said that I should tell him his father was getting all the mileage out of this that he possibly could and that the only reason he even _cared _was because it would look bad if Chuck leaked the fact that Mr. Ellison had this 'evidence' of horrible child abuse, and did nothing about it. I couldn't do any of that, though. It wouldn't do Jimmy any good to be even more angry than he already was. So, I stayed positive. Anna finally _did_ say that she liked that way better. She just didn't think she would be able to do it, in the same situation. I know she could, though, because _she_ always stayed positive around Jimmy, too.

Kyle had started the video again. Jimmy was snuggling in bed, starting to look really tired. The doctor had given him a pill to take, and he had, though at the moment it didn't look like he'd need the sedative. I knew, and Kyle had explained to the jury earlier, that Jimmy couldn't control the level of sensitivity once he was asleep, so even though he was comfortable enough right then to fall asleep, he would need the sedative to _stay_ asleep, once the scratches and the head wound started to hurt again.

"I'll wait, Chief. But that judge better hurry up. I'm running out of skin. I'm all scratches, now." He curled up and was all but asleep. "Can I see you in the jungle Chief?" We had explained that to the jury earlier too, but I don't think they really understood it. Not that _I_ did either. I knew that Jimmy wouldn't be meeting me in the jungle that night. I had started to figure out by then that he couldn't get there on the nights he took a sedative, but I hadn't told him that, to this day, because the doctor only prescribed the sedative when absolutely necessary and the last thing we needed was for Jimmy to start to refuse to take them because he wanted to meet me in the jungle.

"I don't know buddy. But if I don't see you there, you know that I love you, and I'll see you just as _soon_ as I can, right?"

He had a big, goofy, sleepy grin on his face. "I love you too, Chief." He snuggled into the soft cover that Anna had draped over him. "Night Chief." And the video ended.

The courtroom was quiet for a long moment, and then a quiet murmur started as everyone began to comment on it. The judge called for order pretty quickly, but it was obvious that the video had the effect that Kyle had hoped for.

"" "" "" "" ""

Mr. Ellison's lawyer brought up the other time I violated the restraining order, and Kyle brought lots of different people to the stand testifying that Jimmy had left the Center of his own volition. The police had been promptly called as soon as we were sure he had gotten outside, and staff members had looked for him immediately. I think it may have hurt the case a little that no one had been at home with me when Jimmy actually got there, but Anna had signed an affidavit describing what she had seen after arriving shortly after Jimmy himself had gotten there. Kyle assured the other attorney that she could be made available for cross-examination if absolutely necessary.

Mr. Ellison made a comment about adding that whole incident to the lawsuit against the Center. I think we lost a little ground with the jury with that, but Kyle tried to make a case that it was another example of how desperately Jimmy needed to be with me. He had brought to the stand both Dr. Brown and the psychologist, Dr. Patricia Lowe. They had both testified to how Jimmy had been before I got there, and each had tapes to show what they were talking about. They also testified to how much better he had been with me there. Dr. Brown also showed a tape of Jimmy sitting in his room, rocking, and told the court that this is how he was most of the time now that I was no longer there. He told them, as did several other staff, including his teachers, that he now was not at all living up to the potential they had seen once I had gotten to the Center.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

Kyle had me explain my eight year journey to find Jimmy. He had found a few professors I had had over the years who knew about sentinels and had them explain what they knew of the phenomenon. He also had them tell the court that I had repeatedly mentioned Jimmy even that long ago. He showed old tapes of Jimmy drawing pictures of me throughout those eight years. He hinted at, but stopped short of saying that Mr. Ellison would have known that the dark drawing he had been given was from a time _before_ I had even arrived, if he had _indeed_ kept in such close contact with his son. When Dottie leaned over and asked him why he didn't go for the jugular, stating that we certainly had enough proof to show that he had been lying about that, Kyle simply said "leverage," and left it at that.

The opposition tried to say that the fact that I talked about Jimmy that long ago simply showed that I had targeted the child from the very beginning, possibly because I _knew_ he was the son of a prominent man, and had planned all along to take advantage of the child. Kyle countered that if that was the case, surely I could have found vulnerable children of prominent people closer to home, and without having to look for _eight_ years. He stated that he had never known a pedophile to seek out children of _prominent_ people, who certainly would have the power to bring to bear if the criminal was ever found out. He said that to his knowledge, most pedophiles tried to stick to the shadows, find vulnerable kids that _didn't_ have prominent, powerful parents to protect them. He also stated that the other attorney's arguments didn't explain why Jimmy had been drawing _me_ all those years, and reminded the jury that the tapes clearly showed a _very_ young Jimmy drawing exquisite pictures of a person who could only be me. The jury looked puzzled by the whole idea but was a whole lot less hostile than a few of them had looked at the beginning of the trial.

Overall, I thought we were doing a pretty good job of convincing them that this whole thing was, at best, a mistake, and at worse a pure fabrication to discredit me for personal reasons. Everyone in the courtroom, including many of the jury, looked at Chuck like they were hoping the death sentence for criminal stupidity was possible.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Found 15:

What happened next was something Kyle and I had argued vehemently about over the last nine weeks. Kyle, from the beginning, wanted to put Jimmy on the stand. I was totally against the idea. The lights, the noises, all the sweaty bodies and perfume and hairspray, the very_ tension_ in the room, were all bound to be too much for Jimmy, especially in his current state. He had lost a _lot_ of ground in his ability to control the levels of his senses. Every sensory spike in the last week or so had gone to ten and had taken forever to calm him down. I just didn't want to expose him to this. I didn't think we needed to. The tapes would show how I was with him, and how much he seemed to miss me and want me with him. But Kyle insisted that if the prosecuting attorney wasn't guaranteed the right to cross-examine Jimmy, he might move for the tapes to be declared inadmissible. It was iffy if he could actually accomplish that, but Kyle hadn't wanted to take any chances, so he had agreed to bringing Jimmy to court and putting him on the stand.

I had talked to Jimmy at length in the jungle about what court would be like. We arranged that Anna would be working that day and would be the one to bring him to the building. She would stay with him the entire time he was waiting for his turn, and he would wait in a quiet room so as not to become totally overwhelmed before he even _got_ to the stand. I was still _very_ concerned about this, and couldn't shake a feeling of dread. Jimmy was all for it though. He had decided he would just tell that judge to let me come back, and everything would be okay. He was just so _sure_ all he would have to do was ask. Dottie said that probably came from the fact that he had the whole Center wrapped around his finger and pretty much _did_ get anything he asked for…most of the time.

So, we had come to the part of the trial I had dreaded. It was Jimmy's turn on the stand.

Jimmy and Anna appeared at the door in the back of the courtroom. Jimmy looked so confident…better than I had seen him in a long while. Anna looked a little nervous and I wondered if there had been trouble of any kind. My fertile imagination could think of any of a number of possible troubles…anything from Jimmy having sensory spikes, to the pair of them getting accosted by the media. I vowed that I would ask Anna later.

As soon as Jimmy saw me, he broke free of Anna's grip and ran straight for me, grinning broadly. "CHIEF!!!" He jumped for me when he was about three feet away and we both almost went down. Kyle managed to steady me long enough for me to settle Jimmy on his own two feet and continue the hug on more sturdy ground. The spectators erupted in loud commentary…everything from shouts for someone to get the child away from the horrible criminal (it amazed me how determinedly some people stuck to their preconceived notions) to shouts of amazement over how genuinely exultant Jimmy was to see me. Nobody was prepared for the reaction that the uproar provoked.

Jimmy clapped his hands to his ears, screamed and dropped to the ground. Dottie shot Kyle a "he warned you this would happen" look, but I was too busy with an armful of distraught sentinel to comment at the moment. Unbidden, Anna thrust the blocks into my hand, and I tried to get Jimmy's attention. Touch worked best though, and the more I touched him, the louder Ellison and his camp complained. I finally looked up at the judge and implored him to get them to quiet down. He pounded his gavel and demanded order, but that noise itself caused Jimmy more distress.

"Aw, come on, big guy." I tried to sooth with my voice as well as my touch now that the room was quiet. "You wanted to come to court and talk to the judge, remember? There he is, right there. But you need to get all those extra blocks off of there buddy."

He loosened his hands a little and looked at me. "Ten, Chief"

"I know. Look. I've got your blocks. Lets take one off, okay?"

Because the spike wasn't in his sense of touch, he could manipulate the blocks himself. It always worked better that way. He took the top block off and put it back on. The next time he took it off, he left it off and took off the next one, then the next until he was down to five. "Are they going to be loud again, Chief?"

"I don't know, buddy. If they are, the judge will ask them to get quiet again."

"But he's noisy too!"

I chuckled, so did most of the spectators, but they cut themselves off when they heard that it was getting a little loud. "Only to ask the others to be quiet, big guy. I think it's okay to leave it at five blocks. You can always take another one off if it gets too loud."

He smiled adoringly at me (man, I _loved_ that smile) and said, "Okay, Chief" and popped up to his feet like nothing had happened. Most of the audience, and all of the jury were stunned as he climbed into the witness box like he belonged there.

Just as Kyle approached to ask him some questions, he looked up at the judge. "Are you the judge?" The judge nodded. "Why are you keeping Chief away from me? Can I have him back now?"

The judge smiled, several of the spectators chuckled and the jury honestly awaited an answer…so did Jimmy.

"That's what we're here to determine, Jimmy."

"You know my name?"

"Yes", the judge answered.

"I don't know yours!" Jimmy said indignantly. "What's yours?"

"Alan," the judge said benignly.

"Oh, okay." That apparently was good enough for Jimmy. He turned back to look at Kyle and my lawyer started asking Jimmy easy questions…what was his name, what was my name, why were we here today. Jimmy answered all of those with ease.

Then it was the opposing lawyer's turn. He asked tougher questions, but Jimmy didn't bat an eye.

"Did Blair ever hurt you, Jimmy?"

"No way. My Chief would _never_ hurt me. He makes the hurt go away."

"Did he ever touch you, Jimmy?"

The little boy looked puzzled, "Sure, all the time."

There was a gasp in the courtroom and Mr. Ellison said, "See? Out of the mouth of babes."

From the look on the lawyer's face though, I got the distinct impression that he was losing his taste for trying to manipulate the witnesses' words to suit his case. "Jimmy, where does Blair touch you?" Seeing Jimmy's still confused face, he added, "Where on your body does Blair touch you Jimmy?"

Jimmy smiled. He understood the question, now. "Usually on my back. He rubs circles. That helps me take off the blocks. Sometimes on my arms. Sometimes he messes up my hair, but that's not when the blocks are all on. That's when he's picking on me. I tell him I don't like him to mess up my hair…but really, I do. I like it when he plays. I mess up his hair too, and sometimes I get my fingers all tangled. I wanted to let my hair grow that long, but Miss Sara said I shouldn't, so Anna cuts it for me. She let it get a _little_ longer than it used to be, though."

Everyone smiled…including the lawyer. "I think we're getting off track a little, Jim. Can you tell me, has Blair ever touched you when you didn't want him to? Have you ever told him to stop, but he touches you anyway?"

"Uh-huh" Jimmy nodded solemnly.

"See!" Mr. Ellison started again.

His own lawyer cut him off. "Tell me about those times, Jimmy."

"When all the blocks are on for the touch sense. My clothes hurt, then, and sometimes Blair takes me out of the hall, because he says I shouldn't be naked in the hall, but it hurts when he touches when all the blocks are on, so I tell him to stop, but he can't really stop, because I can't be naked in the halls. I'm not sure why, but Blair says I shouldn't, and everyone else seems to agree. Oh, and sometimes he sits behind me when all of the blocks are on for touch and when I try to bang my head to get the fire off, he's there and my head touches him instead and I don't like it because it just puts more fire _on_ and I'm trying to get the fire _off_. So I tell him to stop. But he doesn't because he says I can't bang my head. He lets me slap the floor, but that doesn't get the fire off as well."

The lawyer looked resolved, and said "No further questions, your honor."

Mr. Ellison erupted and demanded that he make Jimmy tell him about when I hurt him. He wanted details. He wanted times and dates and he wanted Jimmy to describe all the despicable things I did to him. What he didn't see, or didn't care to see, was that his tirade was causing Jimmy distress. I quickly handed Kyle Jimmy's blocks, knowing that I wouldn't be allowed to go to the boy. Kyle gave them to Jimmy, but didn't seem to know what to say. Jimmy took off two blocks right away. 'Oh, good,' I thought, 'it was only at eight. Jimmy could handle that pretty well, usually.' He quickly got it down to five, glared at his father, who was still fuming, and took off another block. Then he climbed up onto the seat in the witness box, reached onto the judge's desk, and grabbed the gavel. I thought he was going to bang it himself, but he handed it to the judge and said, "You can be noisy now. Make that man stop! He's too loud!"

Most of the spectators murmured about Jimmy's referring to his father (to whom he was supposed to be so close) as "that man" but still Kyle didn't say anything. Dottie leaned over again. "More leverage?" Kyle just nodded and grinned.

The judge banged his gavel and then had to bang it again, as Mr. Ellison showed no signs of ceasing his tirade. "You said that man hurt the boy." He glared right at Chuck, "Why isn't the kid saying anything about it?" He turned to his lawyer. "That man must have coached my poor baby…threatened to hurt him again if he told."

His lawyer just sat down and said, "That boy doesn't sound coerced. I'm not sure anyone _could_ coerce that kid. He definitely has a mind of his own!" The audience erupted in a fit of giggles, but when Jimmy clapped his hands over his ears, they immediately silenced themselves. Jimmy climbed up on the seat again, pointed to the gavel and said to the judge, "that thing really doesn't work very well, does it?" It was obviously all the audience could do not to give in to another fit of giggles. Jimmy had worked his magic again. I was beginning to think that it was just impossible _not_ to fall in love with this kid.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

Each lawyer made closing statements and dismissed the jury to deliberate the verdict. Anna took Jimmy back to the quiet room to wait. He wanted me to come too, but Mr. Ellison _insisted_ that the restraining order was still in effect and I was to go no where _near_ that room. Jimmy seemed to be okay with it, as long as he was just right next door. I had a feeling Anna would have her hands full if she tried to get him to leave without me.

The jury was back in record time. By this time I don't think anyone in the room, except maybe Chuck and Mr. Ellison, was surprised when the foreman announced "not guilty."

The room erupted, and since Jimmy was no longer there to keep them quiet, they made no effort to stifle their applause. Even the reporters were applauding. Several were eyeing Chuck and William Ellison suspiciously. Pictures were being snapped; tape was rolling and would no doubt be on the news as soon as the reporters left, if it wasn't being fed live. Everyone made it a point to come by and congratulate me before leaving…even the reporters. Several of them asked for interviews but Kyle told them they would have to wait until we got outside the courtroom. He asked for them to please allow me to celebrate with my friends for a moment and we'd be in the hall shortly to give a statement.

As the last of the reporters and spectators left the room, Kyle plucked a large envelope from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He turned to Dottie, and said, "Time to use all that leverage," and he approached Mr. Ellison and his lawyer. Chuck had somehow managed to slink out of the room with no one noticing.

William Ellison visibly paled, the lawyer sighed like he had expected something like this, and Kyle looked like the proverbial cat after a canary dinner. Dottie just smirked. Sara looked as proud as could be and I wondered, not for the first time, if there wasn't more to her relationship with Kyle than just friends. Then the look was gone, and she was congratulating me yet again…presumably for whatever feat Kyle had just accomplished.

When he got back to the table, I asked what all that was about. "Oh, not much really. I just informed the venerable Mr. Ellison that he was being sued for defamation of character, slander, libel, misrepresentation of facts, misuse of a position of power, perjury, endangering a minor child (though those last two are actually more legal charges than ones for a lawsuit) and anything else I could think of between now and tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM when we will meet in my office to discuss the possibility of settling out of court… and off camera.

We all looked over to Mr. Ellison who looked decidedly peaked. Dottie started laughing and I tried not to, I really did, but I couldn't help it. After all these weeks, this mess was finally over. To have turned it around on good ole Mr. Ellison, was just icing on the cake.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Found 16:

There was still an air of celebration as the four of us exited the courtroom. Dottie said that she was off to tell Anna and Jimmy the good news. Kyle told me to be ready for cameras and mics, and he and Sara stood on either side of me, as we stepped into a media circus.

Microphones were thrust into my face, and questions were shouted by everyone at once. At least this time, no one seemed to be out for blood. These were the same reporters who had seen _all _of the evidence just presented in the courtroom, and everyone appeared to be at least _somewhat _convinced that I was truly innocent. Questions were shouted about Chuck and Mr. Ellison, which Kyle fielded nicely, giving no real information at all, but sounding quite forthcoming while actually saying nothing. They asked about my past relationship with Jimmy, which I answered truthfully. Others asked me about plans for the future, which I answered in vague terms, since I really didn't have any detailed answers about my future yet. Sara fielded questions about the likelihood of my returning to work. She had to clear it through the Board of Directors yet, but as far as _she_ was concerned, I could start tomorrow. They asked about the restraining order, and neither of the three of us had answers to that yet. Kyle equivocated expertly.

Anna filled me in later on what had happened in the room with Jimmy during the same time period. He had heard the commotion in the courtroom when the verdict was read and asked Anna about it. She had to ask him what it sounded like, because, not being a sentinel, she could only hear a slight buzz, not enough to tell whether it was positive or negative. By the time she started trying to give possible explanations for the noise he described, Dottie arrived and told them just what had happened. Jimmy asked if I could come home now, and neither woman really knew how to answer, except to say that as far as they knew the restraining order was still in effect, so it would probably be a little while yet.

By that time, Jimmy had heard my voice in the hallway outside, and before either woman knew what he was doing, he was out the door like a shot. The reporters swung their cameras around to film him, and many with mics left me to go to him. I tried to call out a warning. Whether it was to Jimmy, to Anna and Dottie or to the reporters, I wasn't really sure. All I could get out was "Stop" before Jimmy dropped to the ground. Sound, sight, touch, and smell were all off the charts I found out. It took quite a bit of work to get Jimmy back in control of his senses. We had to work first on the sense of touch, so that he could manipulate the blocks himself, and could tolerate my touch to help with the rest of the senses. The reporters refused to back down, insisting on filming the entire incident, which was aired later in the day, along with the footage of Jimmy and me during the trial. After what seemed like an eternity, Kyle finally came with building security guards and managed to clear the reporters out of the immediate area, though they wouldn't leave the building altogether.

Jimmy was exhausted, as he usually was, by the time we got all sets of blocks to five, but he refused to leave my side.

"The judge said I could have you back, right?" He sounded so confused. "That's what the cheering was about, right?"

"Yes and no, buddy." I tried to explain. "The judge and the jury decided that I didn't do anything to hurt you. There is still an order that says I can't go around you. Kyle is going to work on getting rid of that tomorrow. So, for tonight, big guy, I still need to stay away, okay?"

"NO! Not okay! I want you_ back_!"

"I know, buddy. Maybe tomorrow, okay? Can we meet in the jungle tonight, do you think? You want to try to meet there later?"

He collapsed against me, crying. "No, chief. It's too hard. I want to see you for _real_."

"Aw, buddy. One more night, okay?"

Kyle interrupted and told me not to promise him that. He _thought_ he could get the restraining order dropped easily enough. Most likely, Ellison would do just about anything we asked to avoid all the bad PR we could bring to bear, but until it was actually done, Kyle didn't want to take a chance of making me break a promise to Jimmy. He understood how important it was to me to be able to keep my word to the boy.

It took almost another half an hour to convince Jimmy to let me go so that he could go back to the Center with Anna and Sara. This close to the whole mess being over, and I _still_ felt helpless.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

I met Jimmy in the jungle later that evening, and we spent the whole night together. Neither of us had a lot to say, but just being together was cathartic for both of us. Anna told me later that the poor kid slept until lunch time the next day after spending the whole night in what amounted to a zone. I definitely got the better end of the deal in those jungle meetings. I was actually asleep so I felt rested the next day. Jimmy had to give up his sleep for us to meet. No wonder he said it was too hard, and would rather meet in person.

"" "" "" "" "" """ ""

I had originally wondered if settling out of court was a good idea. I really _needed_ the public rebuttal of the charges, and I was just plain angry enough that I would _love_ to see Mr. Ellison's political career ruined, as well as having him possibly serve jail time for the criminal charges. Kyle convinced me though, that we might have more leverage for some of the things I wanted to happen if we went the route of an out of court settlement instead of bringing it all in front of a judge. Mr. Ellison may be willing to do more to ensure our continued silence than any court could ever_ order_ him to do.

So, when the time for the morning meeting finally arrived, I was surprised at how calm I was. I knew we were in the right, and had plenty of leverage to get a pretty good settlement. The man had already proven that he would do _anything_ to get good publicity. But he had also proven that he wasn't beyond twisting the truth or downright lying, and I had initially felt a little apprehensive about giving him _any_ say in what would be decided today. Kyle convinced me, though, that if we didn't like what Ellison was willing to agree to, we still had grounds for a _very_ _public_ lawsuit, and even had a couple of criminal charges we could press. So, even though I thought I _should_ be somewhat nervous, I wasn't.

Mr. Ellison didn't look _nearly_ as calm. He and his lawyer were already in Kyle's waiting room when Sara, Dottie and I arrived at 8:45. The man with William Ellison this time was not the prosecuting attorney we had seen with the older man prior to this. This could only be the wealthy man's personal lawyer. Whoever it was, Kyle made them both wait until exactly 9:00 before he admitted them and started the meeting.

Kyle stated that the purpose of the meeting was to come to a settlement so that we could spare the statesman the negative PR associated with a lawsuit. Mr. Ellison tried to take control immediately. He pulled out his checkbook and a pen with a flourish and addressed me personally. "And how much would it take to settle this nonsense, Mr. Sandburg?" Sara and Kyle just smirked, Dottie was indignant, and I simply answered the question.

"Write _one_ of the checks for $500,000, Mr. Ellison, but make it out to the Cascade Center for Children, and be prepared to meet quite a few more demands before the day is out, many of which have _nothing_ to do with money."

That rattled him. I'm sure that up until now, the man hadn't met many, if any, people who weren't after his money. I couldn't care less, and he was about to find that out.

"In addition, you will send $1000 _extra_ each month to the Center for as long as Jimmy is in residence there…and _no, _Mr. Ellison, you will _not_ move him. Because we certainly wouldn't want proof of just how 'generous' your monthly contributions have been to date to come to the attention of the press, would we?"

He paled and started writing the checks. I wasn't finished. I indicated Dottie with a nod of my head, and continued, "While you're writing checks, Mr. Ellison, write one to Dorothy Campbell to cover repairs to her house and car necessary because of vandalism directly caused by your fraudulent charges against me. I figure $100,000 should cover it." Dottie joined the rank of smirking Blair Sandburg supporters.

"That's certainly doable, Mr. Sandburg." Ellison said as he finished the checks and pushed them toward me, "Now, if you'll just sign this paper that my lawyer drew up stating that we have come to a settlement and you will relinquish…"

"Oh, Mr. Ellison, you misunderstand," I was feeling rather smug by now, "I'm not at _all_ finished with my list of demands."

It was Ellison's turn to smirk as he took out another check and said, "I wondered when you'd get around to the amount for yourself."

No one in the room even reacted to that, this time, as I simply continued stating my demands. "You _will, _of course, rescind the restraining order and drop the lawsuit against the Center, as well as recant all the horrible, and might I add, _false_ things you have been saying about me _and _the Center all along your campaign trail."

"Of course, Mr. Sandburg. I'll have the paper print a retraction in their evening addition."

"Oh, no, Mr. Ellison. I want the rebuttal to be _just_ as public as the initial slander. I'm not talking about a small article on page 12. You will call a special press conference today detailing all of the evidence we produced in court as well as your 'personal observations' of Jimmy and me together; and I want every one of your personal appearances from now until Election Day to include a heartfelt and elaborate apology to both me and the Center, for all of the untrue things you have said, and for all the damage you have caused the Center, and all the children in it, including your son."

He looked like he was going to refuse, but when he looked at his lawyer for advice, the man nodded acceptance of the term. William reluctantly agreed.

"You will also pay Blair this sum," Kyle took over, sliding a piece of paper with an itemized list the lawyer had come up with, "which includes back pay for nine weeks and the amount needed to repaint his car." I hadn't wanted _any_ of Mr. Ellison's money, but Kyle insisted that I was entitled to at _least _that much, so this was a compromise.

Mr. Ellison seemed to feel justified in his opinion that money would solve just about anything and he agreed easily to what he thought was our last demand. "If you'll just sign this now…" He slid the paper across the table to me once more.

"I have one more term, Mr. Ellison."

He smirked and said, "You want another check to cover your pain and suffering? How much will that one be."

"I don't want your money, Ellison. I wouldn't accept the check for the back pay and car repair except that I have financial obligations that I haven't been able to meet because of this nonsense _you_ caused. So, it seems fair to let you solve those problems for me."

I seemed to have his attention, so I continued. "No, Mr. Ellison. This last demand has nothing to do with money, and is the _one_ condition that is _absolutely_ non-negotiable."

"What is this all-important condition, Mr. Sandburg?"

"I want permanent custody of Jimmy."

He finally lost his composure on that one. "What? I can't do that! How would it look?"

"That's the wrong question, Mr. Ellison." Kyle interrupted, "I have a few that might be more important to you. 'How would it look to your constituents when we show the world the letters you wrote the Center saying that you wanted nothing more to do with 'that kid'?' 'How would it look when we aired the taped phone conversations where your angry voice can be heard telling Miss Marshall here not to take up your valuable time with petty concerns of a child you turned over to the Center to handle?' 'How would your adoring public feel when they found out that you _knew_ that Jimmy has been drawing pictures of Blair for eight years?' 'That you were _sent_ a picture that he drew of Blair, and asked if there had ever been anyone in Jimmy's life that looked like that?' 'How about when they find out that your answer to that request was to reiterate that you wanted nothing more to do with the boy?' 'What about when we release the visitor's log for the last eight years, and surprise, surprise, your name isn't on it a single time?' Shall I go on, Mr. Ellison? Because I have quite a bit more…financial records, a notarized field trip permission form which would prove that your perjured yourself in court, yet again…a tape of…"

The older man cut Kyle off. "That is quite enough Mr. Williams. I get your point. But you don't understand. I just spent the last two months telling the public how close I am to my son. How can I now just give him to a complete stranger? Are you _trying_ to ruin my political career?"

I answered this one. "I couldn't give a damn about your political career, Mr. Ellison. In my opinion, you're a piss-poor father, but maybe you would be an okay governor. I'm content to let the people decide on that. All I care about is that you are out of any position of control in Jimmy's life, from here on out. You made his life a living hell for the last nine weeks! Despite two of his doctors' recommendations, you kept me away from him simply to avoid the bad PR that Chuck could have caused when he told the public that you had been given 'evidence' that your child had been abused, and had chosen to do nothing about it. You didn't look into the _validity_ of the 'evidence'. You didn't even _visit _your child to see if he did _indeed _act like he had been abused, like Chuck had said. You put your career over your child's well being, and in my book that is not the action of a father who should retain custody of his child." Kyle and I had discussed this prior to this meeting. This was one of the main reasons we wanted to settle out of court. There was no way a court would strip a powerful, influential man like William Ellison of his parental rights, and despite the obvious withholding of attention, the older man had done nothing that a court of law would believe deemed him unfit as a parent. He had put his child in a reputable institution that was, indeed, caring for his needs. The law doesn't require that a parent actually _care _about his kid; he is only required to provide for his needs. Our only hope of getting the older man out of Jimmy's life, and of getting the control over my little sentinel put in the hands of someone who truly loved him was to offer up our continued silence in exchange for custody, and hope to hell the egotistical billionaire would go for it.

Mr. Ellison looked like he was actually considering it, but was still trying to figure out how he could make it look good, so I continued. "Mr. Ellison, I don't care _how_ you spin this to the media. Tell them that after spending time with Jimmy and me, and seeing how much better your son is when he's with me, and considering how 'fragile' your son is, you felt it was in his best interest to have someone whom he obviously trusted immediately available to him who could sign for medical treatment and the like. I'll even let you wait for a month or two before signing over permanent custody so as to give that story some weight, but in that case, I want a limited power of attorney to be able to make decisions about Jimmy's welfare on your behalf effective immediately, and be aware that if I am _not_ granted complete and permanent custody of Jimmy by the end of two months, I _will _go to the media with all of _our _evidence."

He still wasn't sure. "Be creative, Mr. Ellison. Blame your career that takes you away from your beloved son, and therefore takes you out of reach in medical emergencies. Tell them that you plan on continuing your close relationship with your son despite the fact of giving _legal_ responsibility to someone more available. In other words, Mr. Ellison, _lie_. We all _know_ you can do that if you feel the situation warrants it. And believe me, sir, this one does. Because this is the crux of the deal. I either leave here with limited power of attorney and a promise from you of legal custody within two months, or I go directly from here to the media with this _very_ large folder of very interesting material."

For the first time today, and quite possibly for the first time in the older man's life, Mr. Ellison realized that he wasn't in control of his current situation. This obviously rattled him quite badly. As he did a very good impersonation of the ugliest goldfish I had ever seen, I tossed the file onto the table, leaned back in my chair with my arms folded, and awaited the baffled man's answer.

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Found 17:

Kyle had already drawn up the papers for Ellison to sign giving me limited power of attorney, as well as papers that would rescind the restraining order, effective immediately. The statesman finally agreed to our deal. He hadn't wanted to, but he felt we had him over a barrel. I hated to resort to what amounted to blackmail, but I'd do anything to make life better for Jimmy and having this man out of his life was really what was best for him. I was a little worried about not having permanent custody right away. The offer of a two month grace period had been Kyle's idea. He had said that it would leave Ellison with a feeling of having a little control, and men like him needed that. They didn't react well to having been backed into a corner. Kyle said that we still had the evidence that we could and _would _use if he went back on the deal. I went along with it, but it scared the hell out of me. Ellison, obviously, isn't the most trustworthy person, and I doubt his word really means much of anything to him. I was really afraid that we had just given him two months to find a way around this deal. Kyle said that at least I still had power of attorney to make decisions regarding Jimmy's well being. That was legal and binding, but rescindable. So, while I left the meeting feeling justified, and _mostly_ pleased with the outcome, I was still scared to death about what the future may hold. I _would_ be afraid until Jimmy was legally mine and Ellison's long arm of influence was out of the picture for good.

Also, while we more or less got one big fish in this whole fiasco, the other one, the one that started it all, was still out there. Kyle said to leave Chuck to him, so I was trying to put both Ellison _and_ Chuck out of my mind, at least for now. If Kyle was on the case, Chuck was sure to get what was coming to him, eventually. Kyle had a devious mind. One of the reasons I liked him.

So, that was my mood as I drove onto the campus of Cascade's Center for Children for the first time in nine weeks. I became a little more light-hearted just at being able to _do_ that. But when Dottie and I walked onto Hall 3-B and I was literally bowled over by an ecstatic sentinel, all dark thoughts left my head and I just sat on the floor with an arm-full of giggling twelve year old, and thanked the fates that I could do this again in the real world, instead of just in the jungle.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening with Jimmy in the capacity of a visitor. The Board of Directors had agreed with Sara that I was wrongfully denied my job in the first place, and now that the restraining order was gone, I could start work the next morning.

There was an air of celebration on the whole hall. Staff from other halls came over, one or two at a time, to congratulate me, and welcome me back. The staff on 3-B ordered in enough pizza and bread sticks for the whole hall, and we all stayed there for dinner, children and staff alike.

Jimmy grabbed a large slice of pizza, settled down in his traditional chair at the table, and began his ritual of pizza eating. He would rip off the pepperoni and put it in a pile to be ignored later. I had asked him when he ate the square pizzas they served for meals here, why he didn't just choose a slice of cheese pizza. He told me that the pizza looked better with the pepperoni on it. The next thing he did to his poor unsuspecting pizza was to meticulously pick off every last shred of cheese and place that in another pile, which he would actually _eat_ later, so I was never sure why it needed to be separated from the pizza to begin with. Finally, he would take a napkin and wipe off as much of the sauce as he could. I wasn't sure I understood this either, because he _liked _ketchup, so I would think that he'd like pizza sauce, but he always wiped it off. Maybe it was the spices. I still didn't know. Then he would happily eat his denuded pizza slice. Heaven help us if he wanted more because this ritual was repeated with each and every piece of pizza I had ever seen him eat. Dottie said he had always eaten his pizza that way.

I had gotten the bright idea to order breadsticks since we were having honest to goodness _pizza_ instead of the frozen institutional kind. Breadsticks weren't available for dinners here, but surely since it was possible to have them tonight, he'd prefer what amounted to an already naked pizza slice. Dottie told me they had tried that before and it didn't work, but just allowed me to go ahead with my plan.

As I watched Jimmy start to dissect his pizza, I said to him, "Hey buddy, we ordered breadsticks. Why don't you just eat one of those?"

He looked at me pityingly like I didn't have a clue in the world, and just said, "It isn't the same, Chief."

Dottie gave me a 'told you so' look, but, thankfully, didn't actually _say_ anything. Anna on the other hand kept teasing me about it for the rest of the evening.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

After the dinner hour, the entire cafeteria staff dropped by to welcome me home and to fuss at me for not coming down there so that they could welcome me properly. The last lady through the door was carrying a huge cake that had a copy of one of Jimmy's drawings of me airbrushed on the top, with "Welcome Back Chief" written above it. Judging by the reactions, I don't think anyone on the hall knew that a cake was planned. I'm sure they wouldn't have decided at the last minute to stay on the hall for dinner if they had known. The lunch-ladies easily went with the flow, though. Working here, they often had to change plans at the last minute, so I guess they were used to it.

Pieces of cake were handed out to everyone and the cafeteria ladies sat down and enjoyed the celebration with us. Some stayed for quite some time, even though they were off the clock and could go home any time they wanted. I never realized just how many friends I had here, or just how much I had missed all of them.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Some time later that evening, we were all gathered in the living room. Several of the kids were watching TV, Jimmy was sitting beside me, all but touching, drawing pictures of things he had seen in the courtroom the day before. Anna and Dottie and I were talking, when Hank called across the room.

"Hey, guys, look who's on TV."

Sure enough, there was William Ellison in the press conference he promised. Hank turned the TV up and two of the kids who had been watching wandered away to find more interesting things to do. Everyone else in the room watched, transfixed, even Jimmy.

"I called this press conference because some grievous errors have been made in the last couple of months, and since I was an unwitting part of some of them, I wanted to be the one to set the record straight.

"A man named Charles Tyler, a former employee of the Center, came to me bearing evidence that, taken at face value, looked like my poor vulnerable baby had been injured in the most heinous way possible. In retrospect, I realize that I should have investigated the situation myself, before making a formal complaint, but when a father thinks his beloved child is in danger, he takes immediate action to ensure his boy's safety, instead of actions that a calmer head might consider more well thought out. In so doing however, I have damaged the reputation of someone whom I have come to believe is a fine man, someone who is fantastic with the children he works with at the Center, and someone whom my son obviously adores. For whatever reason, I had never seen the two of them together in my many visits with my son over the months since Blair was hired. I always managed to be there on his days off, or during a break time, or on a sick day, and through my hasty actions, the arrest warrant and the restraining order, I was unable to see just how my son and Blair Sandburg interacted. It took the trial itself for me to be able to see just what a mistake separating them was. I have never seen Jimmy so open and 'centered' around anyone other than me. I am a big enough man to admit my mistakes and to make restitution.

"I want to take this opportunity to publicly apologize to Mr. Sandburg. I've already apologized to him privately, but because of my recent celebrity due to my candidacy, a great many people have seen my negative statements about this remarkable young man. I want to make sure that the same number of people see my positive ones now that I know the truth.

"Chuck Tyler, it turns out, had been recently _fired _from the Center, for using heavy handed tactics with the children there. He had told me that he _quit_ because he could no longer bear to cover up Blair Sandburg's obvious maltreatment of my son. I hear from the Director of the Center that the final event leading to Mr. Tyler's sudden career change came when the man locked a child in a room, when he _knew _the boy was severely claustrophobic. When the other staff members, including Mr. Sandburg intervened on the child's behalf, Mr. Tyler aggressed toward them as well, and subsequently lost his job. While Mr. Sandburg declined to press charges, Mr. Tyler didn't seem so able to forgive and forget. Since he had no grounds to prosecute Mr. Sandburg on his own, he made me his unwitting accomplice in damaging the reputation of the man he felt was responsible for losing him his job.

"The pieces of so called evidence he showed me were butchered copies of tapes from the Center that, if seen in their entirety show just the opposite of what Mr. Tyler was claiming. They show Blair calming my son, interacting with him on a level of which most people are not capable. I understand that some of these tapes have already been released. I urge you to go to the websites shown on the screen and see these for yourself. One of the websites you see listed also directs you to the local news station's site where you can see the video footage taken during the trial yesterday. It clearly shows how connected my son is to Mr. Sandburg, and how well they work together. I urge you all to go see it.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Sandburg wasn't the only one whose reputation was injured during this whole misunderstanding. The Center's reputation was called into question as well. Since the 'evidence' against Mr. Sandburg turned out to be false, and it was upon that evidence _only_ that I was basing my complaints against the facility, obviously, those suspicions were wrong as well. In the eight years Jimmy has been there, I have never once had cause to think that he was not treated with the utmost care and professionalism. That alone should have been enough to tell me that Mr. Tyler was not being completely honest, but when a caring father has _any _suspicion at all that his baby is being mistreated, he often acts in haste. I hereby publicly apologize to the Center as well, and for the record I immediately dropped the law suit I was pursuing against them as soon as I realized the truth.

"Another innocent party who has been wronged in this whole affair is Dorothy Campbell, Blair Sandburg's landlady, friend and coworker. It seems, unbeknownst to me, of course, that Ms. Campbell has had to endure repeated vandalism to her house, car and land. I have of course given her a generous donation that should hopefully cover the actual damage, but there are the emotional concerns to consider as well. Her reputation has suffered by association, and I want to officially apologize to her as well. There are not many people, even if they call themselves friends, who would stand by someone who is in the public eye in such a negative way.

"So many good people were wronged during this fiasco, and it was, in large part, my doing. My only defense is my deep love for my child and my almost obsessive concern for his many special needs and his frail condition. I believe that any father faced with a similar situation would act just as hastily to try to protect his child. So it is with deep remorse that I ask for forgiveness from Blair Sandburg, The Cascade Center, Dorothy Campbell and any other peripheral people who suffered from this, as well as you, my faithful public. I unwittingly misled you, and because many of you are faithful supporters, your opinion of the above mentioned individuals and the Center itself have been colored by my negative statements. I hope that you can now find it in your hearts to forgive me and to readjust your opinions of these people to the more positive ones that have been the truth all along."

Then he looked straight into the camera, and spoke to me personally, "Again, Mr. Sandburg, I am heartily sorry for the terrible turmoil I have caused over the last nine weeks and I am so glad that you are now back where you belong, working at the Center, connecting with my son in a way of which only you and I seem capable." With that, he thanked the reporters and left the podium.

Everyone in the living room area of Hall 3-B was stunned into silence for a moment, while the reporters on TV recapped what had just been said. Finally, Dottie broke the spell. "Well, we _knew_ he was a good actor."

Anna's response was a little less kind, "What a load of crap! He's _never_ been here, on your off days or not. He doesn't interact at _all _with his son, let alone as well as _you _do, and of all the adjectives I could associate with Jimmy, frailwould never be among them."

I tried to settle her as much as I could. "We knew when we asked for the press conference that he'd put a positive spin on it for himself. Kyle said that this was one of the ways we could let Mr. Ellison feel that he has _some_ control and can save a little face. If we backed him into a corner, he would have come out fighting, and I doubt any of us could stand against the kind of power he could wield, with or without any evidence of wrongdoing. Kyle said we wanted him on our side, as much as it is possible for him to be. This way, he gets good PR, we get vindicated in the eyes of the public, and we have the tape Kyle is making of the press conference as proof of more lies in case we ever need to use it."

She smirked at that, and although she still obviously didn't like it, she held her tongue on the subject, at least for the rest of the evening. Jimmy, it seemed, had long since lost interest, and was once more snuggled up against me drawing. Just as we were about to turn from the TV to our separate pursuits, we heard, "In related news…" The reporter had our full attention as she continued.

"Charles Tyler has been arrested on two counts of physical assault on children in the Center, theft of private property (namely the so-called evidence in the recent Blair Sandburg case), and perjury. He is also being sued by the parents of Ryan Jacobs for mental cruelty toward their son when Mr. Tyler locked this known claustrophobic child with special needs in a room for such a long period of time that the child passed out from hyperventilation. Mr. Tyler is currently being held without bail and will come to trial at the court's earliest convenience. We will pass along more information about this as soon as we get it."

The room erupted. I know I shouldn't cheer about _anyone _being arrested, having just experienced it myself, but I couldn't help it. After everything that Chuck put all of us through in the last nine weeks, I was happy he was finally getting a little of his own back. Anna reminded me that no one was entrapping Chuck in any of those charges; they were direct results of decision he alone had made, so I tried not to feel so guilty for feeling so happy.

Just as the outburst had started to die down, Anna wound everyone up again by saying, "Hmm, who knew that jail time was a possible side-effect of TAD!"

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Found 18:

The next day happened to be a Saturday. I was spending the day with Jimmy for the first time in what seemed like forever. Anna and Dottie were off spending Mr. Ellison's money. Dottie was taking this opportunity to change the color of her house, buy a fancy front door like she always wanted and buy more expensive shrubbery. By late afternoon they pulled into Dottie's driveway with the truck they had borrowed from Hank filled to capacity.

One of Dottie's neighbors saw the women struggling with their booty, and sheepishly crossed the street.

"Dottie," the neighbor started, "I know I haven't been very supportive in all this. But I'd really like the chance to make it up to you. Could I start by helping you ladies get all of this off the truck?"

Dottie, God bless her, just didn't have it in her to be resentful. She thrust the nearest bush toward him, and said, "Sure Tom. Put this right over there."

And so the day went. By the time the sun set most of the neighbors on the block were helping with the clean up effort. In the early afternoon the next day, groups of about ten or fifteen at a time started showing up. It seems that each of Dottie's neighbors had mentioned in their respective churches that Dottie could use some help repairing the damage done by the vandals. Each church responded with small groups of helpers. By dusk on Sunday all of Dottie's new plants were arranged beautifully, the house was painted, and the door and new windows were installed.

Several of Dottie's neighbors were still there by the time I got home around 9:30 and we all talked until well into the night. The neighbors needed Dottie's forgiveness. She gave it easily. I highly doubt that the real vandals were among the clean up crew that weekend, but all the neighbors felt that they had let Dottie down when she needed them most. That night, just getting a chance to tell Dottie how they felt went a long way toward helping everyone heal from this mess.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Meanwhile, that weekend brought a good start on healing at the Center too. Just having me around the whole time each day helped Jimmy a little, but I found that he simply could _not _let me out of his sight. I had to come up with a pretty persuasive argument just to get to go to the bathroom by myself. Even still, Jimmy insisted on sitting in the hallway just outside of the bathroom. He had refused to sleep either night that weekend until I promised to stay the night with him. I decided that complete healing was going to take quite a while. I knew that Jimmy trusted me to never _choose _to leave him, but now he knew for an absolute _fact _that I didn't always have a choice.

Ryan seemed to bounce back much more quickly. For a quiet child, he was positively giddy when he realized that his friend was back to normal. Now that Jimmy didn't have to fight so hard to control his senses, he was free to play with Ryan again, and the younger boy couldn't contain his joy.

Healing actually took place in unexpected places as well. Ryan's parents came to visit him that weekend. They were overjoyed to see the change in their son. They watched him play with Jimmy, in person this time, and just sat and absorbed it. They had never seen their son play with another child, except on the tapes that had been sent to them.

Over the next week, everyone tried hard to get things back to normal. I resumed my usual shifts, and had finally talked Jimmy into letting me go home at night. I realized Monday night that I hadn't been quite specific enough, though. Jimmy contacted me in the jungle and refused to leave. Finally, though, by the middle of the week, Jimmy was willing to try to actually sleep at night. He started participating in the classroom again and got back to a normal routine. For the last nine weeks his schedule had been erratic at best due to all the spikes and trips to the jungle. Maybe, at last, he'd be able to regain the ground he had lost during that time.

Not all new developments were good ones, however. Hank came in one afternoon after having taken a half day off. "Hey, everyone, guess who I just saw at the local McDonald's?"

Guesses ran the gambit from various other current staff members, or former staff members who were missed, to Anna's guess of "Ronald McDonald?"

Hank just rolled his eyes at Anna, and said, "Charles Edward Tyler!"

Everyone was stunned. "I thought he was denied bail." Anna broke the silence.

"Couldn't tell you. He must have been granted it after all, because he didn't look like he was trying to hide. Just sitting there eating his Big Mac."

"As long as he stays away from me and Jimmy." I stated my opinion. I was starting to wonder if maybe I should take out a restraining order against Chuck….for me too, but mostly for Jimmy. I wasn't sure if my limited power of attorney allowed me to do that. I decided I'd have to talk to Kyle about that.

With that, we put Chuck out of our minds…again. Turns out maybe we shouldn't have done that quite so easily.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Found 19:

Everything went along pretty mundanely, until the second Wednesday after the trial. I was at home, as I once again usually was at night. Dottie and Anna were there too. Anna had decided that she liked being so close to the school, and periodically still stayed at Dottie's when she had to work the next morning. Jimmy had been sleeping through the night the last several nights and everything seemed calm.

That all changed at 2:00AM one night. I later found out all the details of the event from Gary, the night shift staff member who ended up working with Jimmy.

Everything had been going well; all the kids were asleep, when suddenly the fire alarm went off. Obviously, it was no drill at this hour of the night. No less than five kids started to wail. Molly and another staff member escorted out nine students who didn't seem that bothered by the noise. Molly left them there with the other staff member and staff from other halls, and went back inside to help with the others.

One of the little boys was under his bed, screaming, refusing to come out. Another child was banging her head against the wall, a third was becoming physically violent because of the abrupt change, and a fourth sat in the middle of the hall refusing to move. Then there was my Jimmy. He had grabbed his ears and rolled up in a ball in the middle of his bed as soon as the alarm started. Gary knew how we worked with the blocks and was trying to talk Jimmy down, using those. He wasn't making much headway and he was afraid he was just going to have to carry Jimmy out. What he was doing was taking too long.

Molly got the small child under the bed and headed outside with him. Another staff member scooped up the still screaming little girl who was banging her head. The other two staff members were making headway with their charges, and Gary was still working with Jimmy.

By the time Molly sneaked back in for the second time, the firemen had arrived. She reported that there really _was _a fire. It was on the ground floor in the Administration department, but was spreading rapidly. For whatever reasons the automatic sprinklers didn't go off. So far our stairway was still passable, but Molly said the fire was heading that way, so they had to hurry with the last three children. It took two staff members to handle the large boy who was sitting in the hall. He wouldn't walk, and he was too heavy for either to carry. That left Molly with the child who was still lashing out violently, and Gary with Jimmy.

Gary finally got Jimmy talked down to an eight, and asked him if he thought he could get outside before they worked on the other ones. Jimmy said he could, and Gary stuffed the stack of blocks in his own pocket. Molly finally got close enough to Evan, the violent child, to subdue him and get him started toward the door. Jimmy and Gary followed.

They got as far as the second floor before the stairwell started to fill with smoke. Molly was trying to convince Gary that they should try to get out that way anyway, when they saw the flame flash into the stairway on the ground floor. Gary did the only thing he could. He slammed open the door to the second floor hall and pushed everyone in.

"""" "" "" "" "" "" ""

At the same time, I was awakened by the sound of fire sirens. I'd always been a light sleeper, but the sirens weren't usually a problem. Dottie's neighborhood was the farthest one out from the center of the city. There were just a couple of houses and the Center past her house before leaving the city limits completely. Vehicles with sirens almost never went by. Tonight they did though. I was curious as to where that first truck might be headed, but put it out of my mind, until another one went by five minutes later. By then, Dottie and Anna were up too, and we all three had a sense of dread. We jumped in my car and I drove as fast as I could to get to the Center, all the while hoping to see the two fire trucks parked somewhere else on the way. They weren't.

I pulled in to the outer part of the Center's parking lot and rushed toward the knot of children and staff on the grassy area fairly far from the building. I saw three of the night time staff members for 3-B and ran to them, looking around for Jimmy, knowing with all this smoke and noise, he was bound to be going nuts.

I didn't see him. I asked all the staff and no-one knew where he was. All I could get was that Molly had gone back in to help Gary with Jimmy and Evan, and they hadn't come back out.

Meanwhile, I saw firemen scurry in and out of the building. They shouted that the stairwell was engulfed and called for another truck. They made a quick check to see if anyone was missing. All were present and accounted for except for two staff and two children from Hall 3-B.

By then, I saw one of the fireman point to a second story window and was relieved, yet terrified to see Molly there. The nearest fire truck extended its ladder toward that window, and in moments, first Evan then Molly was down. The fireman went back up for Jimmy, and Gary was helping the boy out the window. Jimmy gingerly stepped onto the ladder and the fireman wrapped him in a one-armed hug. Second floor doesn't sound very high, but at the Center, there was an entire ground floor, then first, then second. So the window was two full stories above the ground floor. I thanked all that was holy that Jimmy wasn't afraid of heights.

Unfortunately, the third fire truck chose that moment to pull up, sirens blazing. Jimmy and fireman were still about 1 ½ stories up when Jimmy grabbed his ears and started to struggle with the fireman. The man had to be phenomenally strong to hold on to the squirming boy so well, but they were obviously not going anywhere.

I could hear Gary try to talk to Jimmy about the blocks, but by now, the young sentinel must have been having spikes in several senses, including touch. He started to actively push at the fireman, kicking against the ladder and thrashing within the man's grip. The fireman held on for dear life to Jimmy with one hand and the ladder with the other.

I had been trying all this time to get to him, but the firemen wouldn't let me through. I tried calling to him, but either I was too far away, or his sense of hearing was spiking too badly for my voice to get through. I will never know what the final straw was for Jimmy, but he suddenly yelled, got his feet under him, bracing them against the rung of the ladder that was at about his waist level. He pushed with all his might, and it was finally too much for the fireman's tenuous one handed grip on the ladder. They both fell. One and half full stories.

To give the fireman his due, he managed to hold onto Jimmy the whole way down. The fireman used his body to cushion Jimmy's landing as best he could, but both landed with a bone-jarring force. From where I stood, I couldn't tell what their condition might be, but neither was moving.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Found 20:

Once again, I tried to get to Jimmy, but a fireman held me back. This time that wasn't going to stop me.

"I've got to get to Jimmy," I all but screamed at him. "He's got special needs that are going to make it hard to treat him if I'm not there to help. Plus, I have power of attorney from his dad to be able to sign for medical treatment."

The fireman tried to reiterate why it wasn't safe for me to go any closer, but I ignored him, "Let me in there, or I'll wait 'til you're busy and_ sneak_ in."

He was thinking about it, apparently, when the ambulance crew pushed past. I just side-stepped in line with them and the fireman admitted defeat.

The first thing I noticed was a tremendous amount of blood coming from under Jimmy's head. Jimmy was lying on top of the supine fireman, still wrapped in the man's now lax arms. The boy's right leg was partially under the fireman, and was positioned at an impossible angle. But, the most worrying observation at that moment was that Jimmy still wasn't moving.

The EMTs were carefully moving Jimmy off of the fireman and laying him nearby on the ground so that they could treat both of the patients. Somewhere in the background, I could hear someone calling for another ambulance, and at some point, I heard Gary's voice coming from relatively nearby, so someone must have gotten him down. All I was really focusing on was Jimmy.

Finally, I heard the best sound ever. Jimmy started to groan. I knew that he'd be in horrible pain, and would probably still have trouble with his sensory spikes, but at least he was waking up. I could help with most of the other things.

He started to thrash around weakly even before he was completely conscious. I was at his side in an instant trying to get him to lie still. I started trying to get him to work on the blocks for touch. It seemed like he could still barely hear or understand me, but I kept talking. Sometimes just my voice helped.

Finally, a weak, "Chief?"

"Yeah, Buddy. You need to get these blocks under control quickly, okay?" He nodded, and I continued, "How many for touch, right now?" I figured it would be ten, since pain would be caught up in that, and the boy _had_ to be in considerable pain.

"Lots and lots, Chief."

"Yeah, I bet, big guy. Let's take that tenth block off, okay?"

"Too tired, Chief."

"That's because you hit your head. You gotta try buddy."

"K" He was still barely awake, but obviously_ trying_ to control everything. Probably pain alone was keeping him reasonably still. Every time he tried to move, he groaned. Aside from his leg, which was obviously broken, he had to, at the very least be stiff and sore all over from the impact…possibly worse than that. He _definitely_ hit his head. The EMT that was trying to examine him while we were working with the blocks said that most of the blood on the back of his head wasn't his. He had banged his head into the fireman's face either during the fall, or on impact…or both. That was most likely what knocked him out for a minute.

"Number ten off, Chief." He still sounded so weak.

"Good boy. How about nine?"

"Working on it," then several moments later, "off."

"Way to go buddy, go ahead and take the others off…down to five."

"Eight off…seven…six…okay, touch is at five, Chief."

"Great, buddy. Hearing next." We then repeated the same process for sight and smell. He said taste was already at five but that the air tasted gross. He could handle it; he just didn't _like_ it. I had to agree with him. The smoke and ash was so heavy in the air now that actually even _I _could taste it.

"Can I take more off of touch, Chief? It still hurts everywhere."

"Hang on, big guy, let me ask." I turned to the EMT, "How important is it for him to be able to tell you where it hurts?"

"If he's able to, that would be a big help in diagnosis." The EMT told me what I really already knew. I had just been hoping we could get Jimmy some pain relief, soon.

"Jim?" I had to get his attention again; he was still a little dazed. "Let's go down to four, and stop there for now, okay? This man has to ask you where it hurts. Can you help him out?"

"Yeah," he said, but he still looked like he was about to go to sleep at any moment. The EMTs worked on immobilizing his leg, checking out his other limbs, his ribs, and his head. They decided that he probably _wasn't _bleeding internally, but they would let the doctors at the hospital decide for sure. His pupils reacted well, so probably no terrible head injury…maybe a small concussion or something.

When it looked like they were finished with the diagnosis and were ready to move him, I asked if it would be okay if he turned the pain down. One of them looked at me like I was nuts, and the other misunderstood.

"I really don't want to give him anything for pain until we get him to the hospital. The doctors there can order it."

"No," I said, "I'm not asking for drugs. I'd rather he _didn't _have drugs unless he can't control it himself."

Now _both _of them thought I was nuts. "Look," I continued, "I know it sounds crazy, but along with Jimmy's special needs he has special abilities to control his own senses to some degree." Still not working, so I tried a different tack. "Okay, let me try again. Jimmy and I have been working on visual imagining so that he can control his sensitivity to environmental stimuli. He can control pain the same way to some degree," Not getting _anywhere_ here. They _still _thought I was nuts. "Listen, all I need to know is, if Jimmy was able to make his pain go away, would that be a safe thing for him to do right now?"

That at least got a response. "I don't see why it wouldn't be safe…_if _such a thing was possible. As long as he's not moving around and not going to be around anything that could cause him harm if he couldn't feel it, then I would imagine it would be okay, but I can't really believe…"

That's all I needed to know. "Okay, big guy, so ahead and take most of them off. Leave one on, just in case, okay?"

The ambulance bearing the injured fireman blared its siren as it exited the parking lot and the flashing lights were right in Jimmy's eyes as it drove away. Jimmy went nuts. He clapped his hands over his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut. "All of them off, Chief? Everything?"

"No, Jim!" That would be really detrimental. I'd have no way to communicate with him if he couldn't hear or see. "No buddy. Not all of them. Take everything down to three if you need to…no lower, okay buddy? You gotta promise me on that one. That's very important big guy. Don't turn hearing or sight completely off, okay?"

"Okay, Chief. But it hurts."

"Down to three, buddy."

By then, they were ready to load him into the second ambulance. They weren't going to let me go with him, but I bullied them into it. I didn't want him having spikes every time the siren went off.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Once we got to the hospital, it was all I could do to keep my young charge calm. The deluge of smells and sounds and all the bright lights caused spikes and we had to work on bringing the blocks back down. He had managed to keep touch at one though, so he was reasonably comfortable. I stayed with him through the exam, the x-ray, the stitching and the casting process. He had seriously broken his right leg, and had a small gash on the back of his head. It only took three stitches, but Jimmy asked if he could turn his touch sense off completely just while the stitching was going on. I didn't see the harm, so I allowed him to do so, as long as he'd turn it back up later. He agreed he would… "but only to one, because everything hurt."

I bet everything _did_ hurt. The diagnosis was a lot better than it could have been. He had basically knocked the wind out of himself, and just the jarring of the sudden stop at the bottom of a story and a half fall pretty much made him sore all over. Aside from his leg though, nothing else was broken. The doctors wanted to keep him overnight just for observation, but they were pretty sure his head injury wasn't serious. He had gotten off pretty easy, comparatively.

As soon as Jimmy was settled into a room for the night, I had a nurse check on the fireman's condition for me. He hadn't been quite so lucky. By trying to make sure he landed first, so as to shield Jimmy, he got the brunt of the damage, which, I guess was his intention once he realized _someone _was going to get pretty damaged. He not only landed on the ground at the same velocity as Jimmy, but Jimmy also then landed on _him. _At least with Jimmy being held so close to him, it decreased the potential for damage a _little_. But there was still a good bit of damage. Jimmy's head had crashed into the fireman's face, breaking his nose, fracturing his lower jaw and breaking several teeth. The doctors speculated that Jimmy had actually cut his head on the fireman's broken teeth.

Jimmy got the better deal with the head injury, too. While having his head hit the man's face was enough to knock Jimmy out for a minute, bashing his head into the ground caused the fireman to _still _be unconscious. The man also had three cracked ribs. All in all, the fireman had gotten pretty banged up just to keep my Jimmy safe, and as soon as the guy woke up I was going to do everything I could to make sure he knew how grateful I was.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Dottie and Anna had stayed at the Center to help with damage control. The three to one student/staff ratio was usually plenty, but all of the children were uptight with all of the commotion. Tara had made the same assumptions as we had when she saw so many fire trucks heading toward the Center, so was already on hand to help. Sara had been called and she called in a lot of the off-duty staff both day _and _night. Calming the children was only the first of the hurdles still to be overcome that night.

The firefighters finally got the fire put out, but there had been considerable damage. All three offices in the Administrative section were pretty much gone, and a good bit of damage had been done to the walls between there and the stairway. The stairway itself wasn't structurally damaged, but between the soot on the walls and steps, and the smoke lingering in the stairwell, it certainly didn't come out of this unscathed.

The Halls themselves weren't really damaged, but the lingering smoke made sleeping there that night impossible. Sara started orchestrating project "Move Hall B Students into Hall A". Sleeping bags magically appeared, donated by staff or their friends and family. Staff from both halls used their extensive knowledge of the individual students to pair them up for the night and started the arduous task of relocating kids who had trouble with transitions into rooms with children who didn't like change. Gary told me later that none of the kids really got back to sleep very well that night…or, by then, I guess it was more like morning.

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TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Found 21:

Three hours after the fire was put out, Dottie and Anna felt that the night shift staff, both scheduled and overtime, had things in about as much control as was likely for the rest of the night. Classes were called off for the next day due to the facts that the kids had been up quite a bit of the night, and that many of the classrooms were in the same wing as the Administrative Offices, and thus were too damaged to use immediately. Any day shift staff not called in during the night was asked to be on duty the following day. Sara figured that more staff would be necessary to help the children deal with all the changes, and that the day shift staff who had been up all night would require at least a half a day off.

By the time the women got to the hospital to check on Jimmy, the little sentinel was asleep in the room the doctors insisted he occupy overnight. Jimmy hadn't really wanted to stay, and it took all the persuasion that I could muster to get him to go along with it. Doctor Brown had been called in, and agreed that Jimmy should stay the night. The sentinel had his blocks set at one for touch, but every time he drifted off to sleep the pain of the broken leg kept breaking through, so the doctor had finally ordered medication to help with that. Between the medicine and the fact that Jimmy was just plain exhausted from all of the commotion, he was pretty conked out by the time his visitors got there.

"" "" "" "" "" ""

A few hours later, by the time the women were starting to think about leaving the hospital to get a little sleep themselves, Jimmy was starting to stir. As soon as he was fully awake and realized it was daylight, he insisted that he be allowed to leave now, since the doctors had said he had to stay overnight, and the night was now over. Dottie and I tried to explain that it had only been several hours before morning when we had gotten here and that he had to stay a little longer so that the doctors could be sure his head was okay, but he stuck to his guns. Jimmy could be very literal some times…most times actually. Anna had just been sitting back and watching the whole conversation, and when I tried yet again to explain why he needed to stay longer, she interrupted with an observation.

"Blair, Jimmy understands everything you just said. He just doesn't _want _to stay, so he's pretending to misunderstand the doctors." She turned to Jimmy, "right, buddy?"

He smirked, the little imp. He was playing me! I had known for some time that he sometimes played minor situation to get what he wanted. After all, he'd had the staff at the Center wrapped around his finger for years. Who could resist that cherubic face? But, this was the first time he actually tried this tactic on _me…_I think.

He shot Anna a mock glare, and settled back down in bed. It wasn't long before he was asleep again. Several hours sleep really wasn't enough.

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The Center fire was the lead story on all the local morning news shows, both TV and radio. By the time the day shift staff arrived at 9 AM, there were wall to wall people in the parking lot, and some already in the building. As soon as the people in the neighboring area heard about the fire, the ones who were available grabbed buckets, sponges, mops and any cleaning supplies they could think of and were arriving in droves to help with the clean up effort. The extra help was greatly appreciated and sorely needed since the staff pretty much had all they could do to keep the children calm and busy.

Sara had tried to keep Jimmy's name out of the news, but had no such luck. Reporters were arriving at the hospital in a steady stream, only to be turned away by disgruntled hospital employees.

Apparently, someone in the media contacted Mr. Ellison, and asked if he would be returning from his campaign tour to be with his son. What was he going to do? If he wanted to still come across as the doting dad, he would _have_ to visit. By late afternoon, he breezed in bearing gifts, with a myriad of reporters in tow. He swept past hospital staff like they were nothing. Dr. Brown happened to be there, checking on Jimmy, and tried to stop the elder Ellison, but he'd hear nothing of it. I managed to catch him in the hall and tell him as discreetly as possible that this circus was really not in Jimmy's best interest. I even tried to capitalize on the fact that he had given me medical power of attorney for just such a reason, but he just reminded me that that could easily be revoked. He was determined to have his little impromptu press conference in his son's room, and didn't seem to care whether or not Jimmy was going to handle that well.

I did manage to sneak back into the boy's room and warn him of the noise and lights, just before the circus arrived. To his credit, Jimmy handled it pretty well. He clapped his hands over his ears when all the reporters started talking at once, but quickly started counting backwards from eight as he took the blocks off with no help from me. Sometimes it seemed to be enough just to have me close. I didn't always actually have to talk him down, anymore. Especially not from just 7 or 8 blocks.

"Hello, son!" Ellison oozed what probably looked like fatherly concern to the media. It just came across as condescension to Jimmy, and he didn't like it. He wrinkled up his nose and said nothing in reply. "How are you feeling little fellow? I bet your leg hurts pretty badly, doesn't it?"

"Chief helps me with the blocks." He did answer that much. "You're the noisy man from the court, right?"

"I'm your daddy, little fellow," a flustered Ellison said to Jimmy, in a 'poor little thing' tone, and quickly turned to the media. "The poor baby must be having a bad day. He doesn't always remember the people he should." Which, of course, wasn't true at all. This was in fact only the second time Jimmy had ever seen the man in person in the last eight years…coming up on nine actually. He had seen him on TV, and seemed to almost find him familiar, but he never really associated him with "daddy". Apparently, he didn't this time either. He just wrinkled his nose again, and stared.

Ellison tried to regain control of the situation and gave Jimmy the gifts he had brought. Of course, he talked to the media, instead of to his son. "The boy likes to color, and really likes to play with blocks."

Jimmy also loved opening presents, so Ellison got the joyful face and enthusiastic tearing into packages that he no doubt wanted. When Jimmy saw the first gift, he frowned and tossed it aside in favor of the still wrapped one. I stared at the opened gift disbelieving. A pack of oversized crayons, the ones they make for preschoolers, and a coloring book with appallingly simple drawings. No wonder Jimmy threw it away. He could draw better pictures than those with his eyes closed.

Unfortunately, the second gift wasn't any more insightful. A large set of Duplo blocks…the giant Lego things, again made for preschoolers. This man didn't have a _clue_ about Jimmy's mental level, or skill level. He only knew about the art and the blocks from the tapes he saw in the trial. I honestly felt sorry for the man…just for a second. This beautiful boy could have been all his to discover and enjoy for the last eight years, and he pissed away his chance. When I realized that the only reason the man was even here now was because it was in his own best interest politically, I quickly stopped feeling sorry for him. No one deprived him of the opportunity to know his child, except Mr. Ellison himself.

The reporters from the TV stations had been filming the whole scene, but the ones from the newspapers, although they had been snapping photos right and left, wanted a posed picture with Mr. Ellison and his son. The man sat on the boy's bed and tried to sling an arm around him, but Jimmy was having none of that. The elder Ellison bounced back quickly and told the reporters that some days Jimmy didn't want to be touched by _anybody_, not even by him. I imagine that he hoped they hadn't noticed that in an effort to center him for the coming onslaught, I had been holding Jimmy's hand when they all came in, and he certainly wasn't objecting to that.

The photographer snapped several pictures, but in every one Jimmy was frowning, and was seated as far from his father as humanly possible in the small hospital bed. I noticed the next day, when I saw the article in the morning paper that they opted to use a shot of a gleeful Jimmy opening presents, alongside a publicity shot of the statesman. I guess none of the photos actually taken of the two of them together showed the kind of relationship they wanted to portray.

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

Found 22:

Sometime after the media circus left, Dottie came by the hospital. Anna was supposed to work that day, but had been allowed to go in at noon, since she had been there a good bit of the time the night before. Dottie was supposed to have that day off, but had been at the Center for most of the day anyway. She filled me in on the clean up effort. Third floor really had little in the way of smoke damage, and the volunteers had concentrated on getting that floor ready for the kids. They had let it air out all day, and cleaned and disinfected anything that didn't move out of the way. They thought that by sometime the next day (Friday), the kids should be able to move back into 3-B. Second was taking a bit longer to clean. More soot on the wall, more smoke in the air, but First Floor was the major concern. The whole building was still structurally sound, that wasn't the problem, but First Floor got quite a bit of smoke and soot. They figured it would take several days of cleaning and airing out for that hall to be habitable again. The ground floor was a mess. More than just cleaning would be needed there.

When the doctor came in to check on Jimmy, Dottie took the opportunity to go check on our favorite fireman. She had good news when she came back. The man was awake, and seemed fairly coherent, though still incredibly sleepy. The prognosis was looking good though. I was _so _happy to hear that.

Jimmy's doctor decided he needed to stay at the hospital for another night. He even scheduled another MRI. Seems he had heard about the visit with Mr. Ellison, and was quite concerned with Jimmy's inability to recognize his father. He agreed that the boy hadn't seemed to have trouble recognizing _us_, but with such a high-profile case, the doctor decided he didn't want to take any chances. So, Jimmy was stuck here for another night. Weren't we all just _so _delighted about _that? _Especially since I _knew _that Jimmy's non-recognition of his father had _nothing _to do with his head injury. Jimmy sulked about it, but knew that I wouldn't buy any attempt at confusion on his part. He tried the puppy-dog face on me, but since it really wasn't my call, it didn't work…this time.

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Dottie and I were watching the news on the TV in Jimmy's hospital room when another report about the Center fire came on. It had officially been ruled as arson, and there was a short list of suspects. They didn't give names of actual suspects, of course, but they did say that Charles Tyler was wanted for questioning as "a person of interest" but could not currently be found. Surprise, surprise. I could have _told_ them it was Chuck. Administration office? Reports, documents, etc. All sorts of items that could have been used in the upcoming case against Chuck, suddenly destroyed? Didn't take much thought to add all of that up and come up with Chuck. Too bad for him that there were copies of all that stuff.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Friday morning finally dawned and just after breakfast Jimmy was again chomping at the bit to get out of the hospital. Fortunately, they came early to take him for his MRI. We were gone a little while for that, and by the time we got back, Jimmy was ready to climb the walls…literally, if his broken leg would have allowed him. I managed to keep him entertained for a little while by asking him to draw a picture for his fireman. I had asked a nurse about the man just before Jimmy had awakened, and she said he was doing much better. By that afternoon, they might let him have a few visitors outside of family. I told her to put Jimmy's name on the top of the list of non-family, non-fireman people who wanted to see him, and she said she would.

I settled down to watch Jimmy draw. I always loved to watch him draw. I usually played a game with myself to see how fast I could name what he was drawing. A while back, I had actually started guessing out loud, and Jimmy enjoyed the game. I swear sometimes the little stinker changed the picture into something else if I guessed it too early. He certainly had the skills to do that, and usually smirked right around the same time, but I'd never actually asked him if he did that.

That day I was having an unusually hard time guessing what he was drawing. At the top of the paper was what seemed to be windows, but they were at odd angles to the paper. Next he drew what looked like a ladder. I asked him if he was drawing a ladder. He said "sort of." I continued to watch. A blurry shape appeared in the uppermost window…the first time I had ever seen him draw anything remotely like a person who wasn't me. There wasn't enough detail to even be sure it _was _a person, and I certainly couldn't tell who it was, but I was starting to be able to guess. I asked if it was Gary, and Jimmy just nodded. He continued to draw the ladder at the correct angle to the building, but at weird angles to the paper. I wasn't sure why that was. He usually centered things so nicely. Actually was usually pretty obsessive about centering them and lining them up with the paper. I had seen him throw away pictures that were almost finished because they turned out to be a half inch off center. So this had me stumped, until he started filling in the bottom right corner of the paper. Arms covered by what could only be a fireman's jacket being tightly gripped by the owner's hands. Knuckles were white as they grasped at bunches of jacket fabric, desperately trying to keep from losing grip. What broke my heart was the final detail of the drawing. Smaller hands grabbing at the fabric on the front of the arms….Jimmy was aware during the fall, and had been trying to hold onto the fireman just as desperately as the man was trying to hold onto him.

As always, as soon as Jimmy finished drawing, he seemed to become disinterested in the picture. "Can I give this to our fireman, Jim?"

"Sure Chief," he replied, but was onto another picture of that horrible night.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

By the time Jimmy finished drawing, I had ten pictures to distribute as I pleased. The fire truck from the point of view of the second story window. Tops of heads and blurry figures standing on the ground…again from the point of view of the second story window. The stairwell at the moment the fire flashed into it (colored pencils were used for that one). The inside of the ambulance. The ceiling of the hospital corridor. Hands (I assumed they were his) trying desperately to take off the top of a stack of ten blocks. The inside of his hospital room. A coloring book with oversized crayons (done in black crayon, and then scribbled out). And a picture of a child's hand clasped in an adult's, both lying on a hospital bed.

I decided to keep that last one, had half a mind to send the black crayon one to Mr. Ellison, and was still debating on what to do with the rest, when Anna came in. She had slept late (for her, that meant 7 AM) and then had worked at the Center for a little while, even though it was actually her turn to be off. At just about the same time, the nurse came in and told us that our fireman was awake and that when the nurse on that floor had asked if he'd like to see Jimmy, he jumped at the chance.

So, in just a few minutes, we had more or less managed to stuff an unwilling Jimmy into the hospital wheelchair without banging his broken leg into anything of consequence. Anna assured me that my stomach was really of no consequence. I stuck my tongue out at her, and Jimmy laughed, allowing us just enough time to finish the transfer with no further mishap.

As we rolled into the fireman's room, we noticed that he had fallen asleep again, and I started moving Jimmy backward to let the man sleep. His wife was seated at his bedside and assured me that her husband wouldn't mind being awakened for this particular visitor. She said he had been asking about the boy from almost the first minute he had regained consciousness.

She introduced herself as Linda Patterson, and her husband as Michael as she began to nudge the man awake. He seemed a little disoriented at first, but when Linda told him Jimmy was there, he looked around, locked eyes with the boy and said sleepily, "Hey, there's my flying squirrel." The man's jaws were wired shut because of the fracture in the lower one, but he still managed to speak pretty intelligibly.

Jimmy seemed to like the idea of being a flying squirrel, but after a moment's thought said, "I think I need more flying lessons."

Michael laughed, "Naw, squirrel, you fly just fine. We both could use some work on our landings, though.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

Found 23:

We spent almost an hour in the fireman's room. Jimmy handed Mike the picture he drew for him and the two men talked about that drawing and art in general. It turned out that Mike painted in his spare time. Landscapes mostly, but he had attempted the occasional portrait. Jimmy told him about drawing lots of pictures of me, and Mike asked if Jimmy ever drew himself. Jim said "no" and they commiserated on how difficult a self-portrait probably was to draw, since the artist didn't really see himself very often. But, since neither of them had ever attempted it, they decided that they just wouldn't be able to know for sure until they tried. Mike told Jimmy that if the boy ever drew a picture of himself, the fireman would love to have a copy. Jimmy promised that he would give him one _if _he ever drew a self-portrait. He obviously doubted that he ever would. And then, to my surprise, Jimmy asked Mike to return the favor, if the man ever drew a picture of _himself._

Over the course of the visit, we all talked about nearly everything. Like everyone else in or around the city, both Linda and Mike knew something, if not everything, about the whole mess with the trial. We filled them in on the rest of it when they asked. The more time they spent with Jimmy, the harder it was for them to see the "damaged", "fragile" child that Mr. Ellison kept speaking of, but aside from one quick mention of that fact, they pretty much decided to ignore that subject altogether. I figured that was the best way to handle it…for now, at least.

The nurse came by a couple of times and I could tell she was thinking about running us out, but she must have thought better of it, because she never actually said anything. Jimmy and "Fireman Mike", as my sentinel now called the man, had become fast friends. Mike gave me his address and phone number and asked me if they could possibly keep in touch. After seeing Jimmy's beaming smile, I decided that that would be a very good idea indeed, and vowed to make sure it happened.

At some point, it became obvious, even to Jimmy that Mike needed to rest again. His speech was getting a little slurred, and there was pain in his eyes. Linda left us a moment to go ask the nurse if it was time for Mike's meds. Jimmy grabbed the chair vacated by the fireman's wife, and pulled it as close to the bed as possible. He obviously had something important to say to Mike.

"I'm really sorry I got you hurt." His voice broke, like he was suddenly fighting back tears.

Mike reached out and took one of Jimmy's hands. "Squirrel, it was _not _your fault." Jimmy wasn't buying it so Mike continued. "You have trouble controlling your sensory spikes, right? Did I understand that correctly?" That last part was directed at me, and I nodded. "Were you trying your hardest to control them that night?"

"Yes, but…"

"But nothing, Squirrel. Your best is all anyone can ask for."

"My best needs to get better." Jimmy still seemed unconvinced that this wasn't his fault.

"Your best _is _getting better from what you both have told me. You couldn't control the spikes at all without the blocks, right?" Jimmy nodded. "Now you've got the blocks, and you've got this guy to help you." He tilted his head in my direction. "All you need is practice. Your best will keep getting better and better. You'll see."

Jimmy just continued to look at the mattress, obviously still skeptical, and too ashamed of himself to look his new friend in the eye. Mike tried a different tactic. "Anyway, I'm the one who should be apologizing to you."

That got Jimmy's attention. "Why?"

"Hey, it's my _job_ to make sure you got out of that building safely and look at you, I let you break your leg."

"You couldn't help that. You tried to hold onto the ladder, but you just couldn't, and you _did _hold _me_ all the way down. You did your best to…."

I think Jimmy realized he'd been had. He looked at Mike, still not quite persuaded to the fireman's point of view, but able to look him in the eye for the first time since he scooted the chair over to the bed. Mike gave him a sly little smile and nodded, and Jimmy smiled back ever so slightly. I don't think he was ready to totally let himself off the hook yet, but he at least believed that _Mike _didn't blame him. That seemed to be enough for now.

Linda came back, followed by the nurse who finally _did _tell us to leave. Jimmy gave Mike a gentle, awkward hug, and a quiet "thank you" and we started back down to Jimmy's room. He looked a little more at ease about the whole thing, but he also looked more determined than I'd ever seen him. I knew I could look forward to helping Jimmy with some heavy duty work on getting those spikes under control.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

Anna was waiting back in Jimmy's room and asked how the visit went. Jimmy launched into a long dissertation of exactly what was discussed in Mike's room…almost word for word, actually. One thing we had noticed, now that Jimmy was talking to everyone, was that often, he wouldn't shut up. Anna just grinned and settled in to listen to the long….make that _very _long… retelling of the visit. It was a good thing Anna was a patient person.

Not long after Jimmy had finished his story, his doctor stopped by with the results of the MRI. As I knew they would, they came back clean…no indication of brain damage or anything that would warrant another night's stay, so by 7:00 PM on Friday, two days after the fire, Jimmy was finally getting out of the hospital, and going home. He was so excited that even the thoughts of having to ride in the dreaded wheelchair didn't dampen his spirits.

"" "" "" "" "" " " " "

Earlier in the day, Anna and Dottie had made sure that Jimmy's room was as ready as could be for the boy's return that evening. All the pictures had come down from the wall. Dottie had them all at home, but said that the combined smoke smell from all of them would be pretty hard for Jimmy to handle. He didn't seem to care. The pictures had been there because the staff had put them there, not because Jimmy necessarily needed them there, so that made the situation a little better. Dottie told Jimmy that he would have to start drawing more pictures the next day so that they could put more up on the walls. All the artwork had been removed from the entire Hall. Some had been returned to parents of the various artists. Others had been put in the kids' files or had been taken home by staff. Dottie saved the first picture of Ryan's that the child actually asked to be hung up. She offered it to his parents, but they said they wanted Jimmy to have it. Dottie told the sentinel that she was keeping it at her house for him because it smelled like smoke. Jimmy said that was okay.

After having spent pretty much the whole day and all of the previous day in bed, Jimmy really didn't want to go to back to bed so soon after arriving at the Center. The staff said that any schedule they might have been trying to keep was pretty much shot anyway, so they allowed him to stay up and watch TV for a little while. A few of the other kids wanted to also, so we ended up making popcorn and having a late-evening movie marathon. The next day was Saturday so the children wouldn't have classes…not that they would have had them anyway, as that part of the Center was still not useable. All the staff just resigned themselves to having a horrible time of trying to get all these kids back on a schedule once things were back to normal. For now, we just let them watch movies and eat popcorn.

"" "" "" "" "" "" "" ""

The next morning's mail brought something utterly unexpected. A certified letter from Mr. Ellison's lawyer revoking my limited power of attorney. There was also a typed letter from William himself, but of course it was not signed and therefore we would never be able to prove it had been from him. So, sitting there in the break room on Hall 3-B, I opened the letter with a good bit of apprehension. I handled it by the corners only, just in case we might be able to get prints off of it later, but I highly doubted that we would. I must admit, of all of the things I was beginning to expect of that man, the information revealed in this letter threw me.

_Mr. Sandburg,_

_I no longer feel the need to honor our arrangement giving you power of attorney, nor the one demanding increased monthly payments to the Center since both of those…indeed all of our agreements…were based on the fact that you possessed certain items that would be damaging to my political career should they come into the public eye. Since I have taken steps to ensure that you no longer have access to those items, I am terminating our agreement. I harbor no animosity toward you personally…well, maybe just a little…but it really isn't worth the trouble that would be generated by having you fired and kept away from Jimmy again. Besides which, I just really don't care…as long as you realize that you have no more power over me. You are no longer calling the shots. Your "aces in the hole" have gone up in smoke…literally. As to custody of the brat, I really would never be able to explain that satisfactorily to my constituents, so I don't see the need to honor that part of the deal either. Please don't attempt to manipulate me again. The better man has won in this situation, and always will. Don't cross me again._

Dottie noticed that I had gone pale, grabbed the letter from me, still touching as little of it as possible. She read a little to herself, then, realizing everyone would want to know what it said, read the whole thing out loud. When she was finished, every adult in the room uttered, at some volume, variations on the same theme.

"That son of a bitch." Anna said, since there were no children in the break room. "He started the fire!"

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

Found 24:

Mr. Ellison is a man used to getting his own way, so it came as a great surprise to him when I bulldozed my way through his secretary and burst through his office door. I slammed a file folder full of papers down on his desk and he could only sit there, staring incredulously.

"You son of a bitch." I started, but was far from finished. "Are _these _the items you were trying to destroy? Do you really think we'd keep the originals in a place so easily accessible? And don't bother looking. _These_ aren't the originals either. I may not be as experienced at this 'cloak and dagger' stuff as you are, but I am _not _stupid. Neither is Kyle or Sara. We had _numerous_ copies of all of this stuff made and hid them in any number of places. The originals are secreted away where you will _never_ be able to get to them."

Ellison sputtered a half heard response, but I wasn't finished talking yet. "You _asshole_! You would really risk the lives of all those kids just to destroy our evidence? When given this information the police will at least seriously _look _at you as a suspect on 127 counts of attempted murder!"

William _did _find his voice then. "Oh, please, Mr. Sandburg, let's dispense with the theatrics, shall we? The kids were never in any real danger, and were certainly never supposed to be murdered. There are no residential halls directly above the administrative offices, and the sprinklers were supposed to come on almost immediately. The fire was only supposed to get the papers. Even as it was, there was no danger to the children."

"No danger to the children? Your son has a broken leg!"

"Only because the brat jumped off the ladder."

"A ladder he would _not _have been on had there not been a fire!"

Ellison just sat behind his desk, smugly. I continued to rail at him. "Why all of _this _just to keep from honoring your deal? It's not like you'd _miss _the thousand a month. It's not even like you'd miss Jimmy! Hell, you've only laid eyes on him twice in the last eight years. What would it matter to give me custody?"

"If it was just a matter of custody, it wouldn't matter. I'd give it to you today. I don't know why you want saddled with a damaged brat like that anyway. I have always wondered if he was actually mine, to be quite honest. There is just _nothing _in the Ellison genes that would allow for that kind of damage. Stephen turned out perfect."

"And yet, you don't have much to do with him either. If you don't even think Jimmy's yours, why not give him to _me_?"

"Because I can't figure out a way to, as you said before, 'put a positive spin on it.' I need my constituents to continue to believe the 'doting father' routine."

"If we can come up with a legitimate-looking reason for the custody change, would you consider it?"

"I doubt it; it's just too big of a risk. Too likely to be seen in a bad light. As it stands right now, this upcoming election should be a landslide, but I don't want to take any chances."

"Well, Mr. Ellison, how about the chance you are taking right now. I still have all the ammunition I ever had. You promised before to give Jimmy to me to keep me from turning this over to the press. There's nothing to keep me from it now, Mr. Ellison."

"Yes there is." He said with that smug look that I would have _loved _to knock off his face. "If you release any of that, it will be easily explained, _and, _I will just move young James into a 'better clinic' across the country…or maybe even _out _of the country. I hear there are quite remarkable strides being made with the treatment of autism in the European countries."

Okay, I didn't see that coming. God, that couldn't happen! That was why I was fighting so hard to get custody of Jimmy in the first place. I _needed _that never to happen! I barely found him in time the first time. God, I'm not sure he'd survive another eight years without help…especially if he was ripped from _everyone _he had ever known. I'm convinced that the only reason he was still so reachable the first time was because of all the loving people at the Center who had known him his whole life.

"You can't _do _that. He _needs _me to help him through all of this. You heard about what it did to him the last time you separated us."

"I can do it, and I _will _do it, if need be. I really couldn't care less what affect it might have…on either of you."

Mr. Ellison knew he scored on that one. I couldn't let the situation stay there, though. I squared my shoulders and tried to recapture some of the steam I had worked up. 

"How will your constituents feel when they find out about your involvement with the fire?"

"You can't prove I _was _involved. The man I hired to actually _start _the fire is long gone by now. He certainly had enough money to be, even after paying his bail."

"Chuck! I knew he was involved _somehow."_

"So you see Mr. Sandburg, you really do _not _call the shots here. You can't prove I had Mr. Tyler start that fire. You can't prove _anything._ All you can really do is show some old documents. Papers can be aged, documents can be forged. Even if you show your receipts from years past, showing I didn't give much money. Even if you show the logs proving I've never seen the brat since I dropped him off at that God-forsaken place. The public loves me right now, and I'll just spin some story to cover it, make you look like the bad guy, say you had falsified those documents. I'll come up with _something. _My constituents are really pathetically gullible. So, do yourself a favor, Mr. Sandburg. Go back to your little Center. Work there for pitiful wages, if you want. You can spend all the time you want with that pathetic creature that _thinks _he's my son. I couldn't care less, but I know_ you_ care, and if you cross me again, I'll move the god-damned brat to the other side of the world, and I don't care _what _effect that might have on him." He threw the file back at me, papers scattered everywhere. "Get out, Mr. Sandburg. You don't have anything I need."

I reached into my inside coat pocket. "Yes, Mr. Ellison, I think I do."

I touched a button and rewound the tape just a little, and then pressed 'play'. From the tiny speaker came "…move the god-damned brat to the other side of the world and I don't care _what _effect that might have on him." I thumbed another button and stopped the playback.

I _love _it when I can make Mr. Ellison sputter. "I have the whole conversation Mr. Ellison. Should I wind it back further?"

He sat there for, I know, at least a full minute, thoroughly stunned. When he finally found his voice, he stammered, "That's not enough to really prove anything criminal. Tha…That's not even admissible in court."

"Maybe not, sir, but it would sure make a _hell _of a good sound byte on the 6:00 news!"

_TBC_


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Last part, everyone. Thanks so much for all the comments and support. I know the end of a story is a weird place to put a dedication, but I wanted to at least _acknowledge _the three families who have autistic sons who have been faithfully following and commenting on this story. Halfpastdead is the only one who has left a public message. The other two wish to remain anonymous. I wanted to say a special thank you to all three of you.

Found 25:

Three days later found us in the chambers of a judge friend of Kyle's. He agreed to officiate the adoption and keep quiet about it if anyone should ask. Publicly, Jimmy could remain "Mr. Ellison's son." I didn't care, as long as _legally _he was _mine._

I understood from Kyle that the child in question isn't always included in the legal part of it, and often doesn't even have to talk to a judge or anyone official. But Judge Harris liked to talk to 'his kids' before making such an incredible change in their lives. Besides which, he informed me, he just wanted to meet the young man that had caused all the media hoopla lately. So, Anna and Dottie and I all stood with Jimmy and Kyle, while Mr. Ellison and his lawyer breezed in 7 minutes late… I imagine that was to give himself some illusion of control.

"Hey there young man," Judge Harris addressed Jimmy. "You mind if I talk to you a minute?"

"Nope, you can talk." Jimmy answered, studiously looking all around the room. Anna and I just gave each other a look. I think we both figured that drawings of the inside of the Judge's chambers would turn up all over the Hall in the next week or so. "We are here today because Blair wants to be your new daddy."

Jimmy glanced at me, but said to the judge, "What's that?" Thank God Kyle had filled this man in on just what was happening here; including that Ellison wasn't really the doting father he wanted everyone to think he was. It was a testament to just how defeated Ellison felt that he didn't launch into the "poor little fragile child doesn't understand the concept of a father due to his disability" speech. Hell no, he didn't understand the concept of a father…he'd never _had _one!

Anyway, the judge explained. "That's a man who always takes care of you …all of the time, and loves you, and always tries to do what's best for you,… no matter what."

"Oh," Jimmy looked puzzled. "Then Blair already _is _my daddy." That seemed to answer everything for_ him_, and he moved over to the corner of the room and became mesmerized by the pendulum on the grandfather clock.

"Well, gentlemen…and ladies…I guess we've just been dismissed." The judge chuckled. So did everyone else on our side of the room. The other lawyer looked bored, and Ellison just looked contemptuous, but I was beginning to think that was a permanent look for him…at least when he was anywhere near me.

The judge continued with a few questions. Wanted to make sure Ellison knew he was giving up all parental rights and could not just decide he wanted them back at some later date. Ellison was fine with that. Judge Harris asked me if I was going to allow Mr. Ellison to continue visiting the boy. Ellison answered that that provision wouldn't be necessary.

We finally hammered out all the intricate details and all parties necessary signed the document. Ellison breezed out as soon as he finished the 'n', as though just about _any _place was more important to be than here. I thanked him as he passed me…not sarcastically…seriously thanked him. He snarled and didn't respond.

That was that! Jimmy was actually mine. My son! Of course, at the moment, my son was busy removing all the books off of the judge's book shelves and putting them back according to color. Aw, the joys of parenthood. I offered, and Anna and Dottie both seconded the offer, to put the books back in the right order, but the Judge just chuckled and said he had young nephews, so this wasn't the first time the books had gotten mixed up.

"" "" "" "" "" "" ""

It was still early and we had all been a little too nervous to eat breakfast earlier, so we stopped at the nearest iHop. Jimmy loved waffles and had never been to a restaurant for breakfast, so we thought it would be a treat. We found a booth in a quiet corner of the restaurant. The ladies filed in on one side, the gentlemen on the other.

Jimmy accepted his order of waffles and began to meticulously cut them along the raised lines. This was a ritual…kind of like the pizza thing. This way he would eat it…any other way he wouldn't, so we let him cut his waffle. Then he took the syrup and carefully filled the hole in each piece of waffle…just to the top, not a drop more or less. Hey, it made breakfast entertaining. Anna always commented that eating with Jimmy was like getting dinner and a show.

Jimmy finished eating well before we did, and started using his placemat to draw the judge's grandfather clock. Dottie said she'd have to see about getting one of those for when Jimmy was at the house, since he liked them so much.

The three adults were deep in conversation when Jimmy abandoned his finished drawing and reached across the table for Anna's placemat. She lifted her plate and let him have it. I'd have to see if I could do anything to _un_wind the staff from around Jimmy's finger…one of these days.

Anna tried to get Jimmy to join the conversation. "Hey, Jimmy, so now you have a dad. And since Dottie has all but adopted Blair, I guess that makes her sort of your grandma." Jimmy looked like he was waiting for her to continue, so she did. "You know, like Lydia's Grandma."

That actually got his attention a little more. "Lydia's Grandma brings cookies." And he looked at Dottie challengingly.

"Grammas don't _have _to bring cookies. Sometimes you just visit them at their house, and sometimes they buy you waffles at iHop." I hadn't realized Dottie was paying, but it was fine with me." 

"Okay," was Jimmy's response and he went back to his drawing…it looked to be another picture of me.

Dottie looked at Anna, and commented, "And young lady, I'll have you know I am _not _old enough to be a grandmother of a nearly teenaged boy." Both Anna and I chuckled. Technically speaking, at 47 she was pretty_ close_ to being old enough to be Jimmy's grandmother, but we both valued our lives a little too much to mention that.

"Ryan has a grandma." Jimmy inputted. "I saw a picture."

"Yes, he does," Dottie agreed. "I met her once, but it's been a few years." She turned to Anna and added, "And she was a _good bit _older than me."

Jimmy was thinking. "So I have a daddy and a grandma like Ryan?"

"Yep," Anna answered.

"Ryan has a mom too."

Mayday, mayday…full reverse captain. But Jimmy didn't reverse. He looked straight at Anna, and said, "That make you my mom?"

Anna choked on her soda, I became _very _interested in my pancakes and Dottie wasn't even _trying_ to hide her laughter. I think she was counting that as full payback for the 'grandma' remark. Jimmy decided he probably wasn't going to get an answer and went back to his drawing.

When we finally got Dottie settled down, we went back to talking…mostly about what happened next. Sara had told me a while ago that the board of directors had agreed to put $100,000 of the Center's settlement in a trust fund for Jimmy if I ever actually got custody. They realized that even if he _did _want the rest of the world to still think he was 'super dad' William Ellison would be under no legal obligation to continue paying _anything _for Jimmy, let alone anything near enough to support him after he left the Center. No one really thought that his leaving the Center permanently would happen anytime soon, but if it didn't happen before he was 18, it would have to happen that year. The Center could only house children, and I wouldn't even entertain the_ possibility_ of having Jimmy in a residential facility for adults, so the trust fund would certainly help. Until then, my pay would supply Jimmy with anything the Center didn't. Of course, Dottie and Anna both said that they had already been approached by people who wanted to contribute money to a savings account for Jimmy that would handle the extras.

By the time we were ready to leave, Anna quietly kicked me under the table and nodded her head towards Jimmy's drawing. We had all become absorbed in the conversation and hadn't really looked at it lately. There, beside me in the drawing, was a smiling Jimmy. His first self-portrait. We all just watched silently as he put the finishing touches on it.

Anna finally broke the spell and quietly asked Jimmy if we could give that to Fireman Mike since the man had wanted a self-portrait of Jimmy.

Jimmy just shook his head. "We can give him the next one." He looked at me and handed me the drawing…the first time he had _ever_ independently given his drawing to someone specific. "This one is for you Chief."

Everyone at the table was silent for so long, I was afraid that Jimmy would think we didn't like it. I smiled and tousled his hair. "Thanks buddy. It's fantastic!"

"Hey," He said with mock indignation. "Not the hair, Chief," and he reached up and tousled mine right back.

The End

A/N: Blair is already telling me of another story in this universe, but I'll be working on an NCIS bunny first. It has been waiting patiently for its turn for a while now. Of course, it's Tony telling me the NCIS story, so 'patiently' probably really isn't the right word.


End file.
